Moving On DFA 27
by Dyna Dee
Summary: The second war is over and the gundams are destroyed. Duo and Quatre return to L-4 where they both prepare to move on with their lives.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Don't own nor profit from GW.

Moving On - DFA 27

Dyna Dee

Warnings: A little angst, a bit of fluff, and the kitchen sink.

Part 1 - Two Steps Forward.

"Duo, we're almost to L-4. Can we talk?"

Quatre was nothing but persistent, Duo thought grimly to himself as he maintained the appearance of being asleep.

"Duo!"

Quatre waited approximately fifteen seconds before he shook the braided teen's shoulder. "I mean it Duo. You're awake and upset and I want you to talk to me."

With a heavy sigh and his eyes still tightly scrunched closed, Duo answered in an exasperated and weary tone of voice. "I'm fine Quatre. I just don't feel like talking."

"Six hours in this shuttle and you've not said a word to me," Quatre persisted. "You can't tell me nothing is wrong. I thought things went well at the hospital with Wufei, don't you?"

Duo's mind jumped back to the scene when he brought a slightly reluctant Wufei into Heero's hospital room. Quatre and Trowa had already arrived for their planned afternoon visit and their presence seemed to help alleviate some of the awkwardness between the other three. "Yeah, things were fine. I'm pretty sure Heero and Wufei have worked things out with each other now."

"And what about you, Duo?" The blond asked with concern.

"I'm always fine, Quatre. You should know that by now."

Blond eyebrows drew together as Quatre frowned. His hand came to his chest and he absently rubbed at the ache he couldn't physically touch. After several moments had passed with Duo maintaining his stubborn pose, his back towards his friend and facing the window of the shuttle, the blond tried again.

"Trowa told me about Heero hitting you and leaving you for Trowa to take care of on that colony you saved." Silence followed his statement and the ache in his chest increased. "Is that what you're upset about?"

Duo turned over quite suddenly and Quatre wasn't at all prepared for the anger in his friend's normally happy face. "Upset? Wouldn't you be upset if your friend didn't trust you to carry out your mission? Heero used me as a decoy, which wouldn't have been so bad if he'd informed me of his plan. But nooo!" The braided boy shook his head and his body seemed to tremble with barely suppressed anger, "he just knocked me out and went off on his own and fight without a back up, leaving me to be babysat by Trowa who, I learned after the fact, was going to abandon me in a holding cell with the enemy while he ran off to join up with you the and gundams. Do any of you think I'm capable of anything but wiping my own butt? You don't seem to think I can do anything else."

Without waiting for an answer from his shocked and momentarily speechless friend, Duo then threw himself back into his former position, his arms wrapping around his body in a closed-off defensive position.

"Duo," Quatre reached out to touch his friend's arm, only to have Duo violently shrug it off. He brought his hands together and began to rub them with worry. "I'm sure they were only trying to protect you," he continued, his voice soft with compassion. "Heero hasn't seen you during the last six months and Trowa was with us during a very difficult time. They don't know how well you really are, that you're strong again. They only remember how vulnerable you were when we attended school together. I'm sure they just wanted to spare you any further pain, not hurt your feelings."

"Well, I guess they accomplished the first goal and failed miserably with the other. I'm physically fine and dandy and my feelings hurt like hell," came the dark reply. 

Quatre frowned. Wufei had tried to covertly tell him in the hospital room that Duo was upset about something, but he hadn't been overly concerned as Duo seemed fairly animated though somewhat distant from the two pilots he was obviously put out with. In retrospect, he didn't remember Duo speaking with any of them in the friendly fashion they had come to depend on during the wars. In fact, he couldn't think of an instance when he saw Duo exchanging words with Heero other then trivial pleasantries. Trowa had also commented to him on Duo's stand-offish attitude towards himself.

Settling back into his seat, Quatre thought the situation over. Trowa had told him in meticulous detail just what went on in the control room as they fought against the clock while working on the computer system to override the course of death and destruction the colony had been pre-programmed for. Putting himself in Duo's shoes, he knew that he too would be hurt and upset if he had been treated in a manner that Heero and Trowa had treated their friend. On the other hand, he also understood Heero's and then Trowa's protectiveness on Duo's behalf. After his challenges after the war, they had all become protective of him, guarding both his physical and mental health. 

To be honest, Quatre had to admit that he'd been guilty of the same thing during the last six months that Duo had lived in his home. He'd made it a practice of shielding the American from any negative news coming from any form of media, especially those with less than glowing stories and those reporting the statistics regarding the damage and deaths that were attributed to the Gundams. News commentaries and debates stemming from former OZ and Alliance die-hard supporters who had a free and open forum in the newspapers and cable news stations were also avoided. 

The often volatile and emotionally charged debates continued on television news programs and in print as to whether the government was wise or not to keep the information regarding the identities of the pilots and their colonies undisclosed and classified. This withheld information and the government's sheltering of the unknown pilots or any clues regarding their situation or location had many in the public and press in an uproar, contending that the citizens of Earth and the colonies had a right to know the identities of the five pilots of the gundams that changed the course of history and relations between Earth and her colonies, not to mention having saved Earth by stopping Libra from crashing down and destroying countless lives. 

So far, Lady Une had been able to keep her promises to them of keeping their identities from the public, and they were free to live their lives in relative peace. But there was always the dark, looming cloud of their pasts that hovered over them, plus the worry of what would happen if their identities were discovered and plastered all over the news. It was a fear that the four of them had lived with for over a year, and Quatre had tried his best to shelter Duo from as much of it as he could, and he had succeeded up to this point. 

With a sigh, and knowing Duo was wide awake, he spoke again but changed the subject. "So when are you leaving for L-2?" Quatre asked his friend, the subject making him feel a bit more subdued.

"As soon as I get my stuff together." Duo replied and turned slightly to look over his shoulder at his friend. "I told Mr. Schweibeker I'd be there after New Year's Day, so I'm already late. Hilde made my excuses to him, but I don't want to push my luck." 

"Any chance you can stay to the end of the week?" Quatre asked, and there was something strangely needy in his voice that caused Duo to turn completely and face him.

"I don't know Quatre, do you need me for something?" Duo searched his friend's face and saw something he'd rarely seen in the face of the boy who was one of the strongest yet kindest people he'd ever known. Quatre suddenly looked vulnerable. He'd do anything for Quatre, and not just because he owed him so much for taking him in for the past six months. Quatre was his friend, tried and true. Friends, he'd learned long ago, were a necessary part of his life even if it wasn't always easy having them. He might be seething with anger at Heero and Trowa, but if they needed him, he'd be there in a flash. And deep down inside, he knew they'd be there for him as well if he needed them.

"It's kind of important and not important at the same time," Quatre said with a slight blush of embarrassment while never taking his eyes off his friend. "But my father's birthday is on the sixth, and my sisters and I are having a special program to commemorate it. I would like it very much if you could be there for me." Quatre's big blue eyes seemed to plead with Duo to understand his need. "This is very difficult for my sisters and myself," he continued. "I would really appreciate a friend being there to support me."

Duo knew in an instant that he would do whatever he had to in order to give Quatre the support he was asking for. "I'll call Hilde and have her make it right with her uncle," he replied decisively with a reassuring smile then reached up, put his hand on the blond teen's shoulder, and gave him a reassuring squeeze before pulling it back. "So, is there going to be food served at this program?"

Quatre managed a smile though his eyes were filling quickly with evidence of his gratitude. "I'll make sure you're fed well, Duo. Thanks."

"Don't mention it buddy," Duo replied. "That's what friends are for, to be there for each other when life gets tough, right? You've proved that to me over and over," he said quietly with a warm smile for his friend. "I'm just glad I get to show you I can be here for you, too."

"You've always have been there for me, Duo," Quatre replied with a slight yawn. "I just don't think you've ever realized it."

A comfortable silence settled over the two as their feelings of friendship soothed away the darker feelings they both had been experiencing, and with only fifteen minutes until docking, they both dozed off into a much needed sleep.

  
  


"Quatre, over here!" A female voice called out to the Winner heir just as he stepped out of the shuttle, his sleepy-eyed friend at his side.

Seeing one of his many older sisters approaching him with a smile, Quatre managed, despite his weariness, to smile back as he greeted her. "Hello Samanta, how are you?"

He suddenly found himself engulfed in the tall blond woman's arms, accompanying billowing silk and a floral perfume that wasn't overly heady, but surprising pleasant to inhale, which probably meant it was insanely expensive.

"Welcome home, little brother. Thank Allah you've come home safe once again." she said with all sincerity, then stepped back to embrace Duo with just as much enthusiasm. 

"And welcome to you too, little cousin," she said with a slight feminine laugh as Duo stood stiffly while she enveloped his smaller body in a warm, enthusiastic hug.

"Thanks cousin," the braided teen replied, his voice muffled against the fabric his face was pressed into. Duo had admitted to Quatre after living in his mansion for several weeks that he'd had a hard time telling the Winner sisters apart and remembering their names. Being conceived in a test tube and brought to term in a synthetic support womb, many of the children fathered by Quatre's father and mother had been multiple births and some looked identical to their twin or triplet siblings. So when one of Quatre's sisters playfully referred to their little brother's close friend as "cousin", the orphaned boy from L-2 gladly began to refer to back to any and all of the Winner women likewise as "cousin". He liked the term because it made him feel part of a large, tightly knit family and because it helped with the problem of remembering which name fit what sister. They were now all simply called "cousin".

The thirty-three year old woman stepped back from the braided boy and then carefully inspected each of the two teens standing in front of her. "I take it you were not injured in this last battle?" she asked, one of her blond eyebrows rising in an unspoken but obvious disapproval of the two boys going off into yet another war to fight for the colonies.

Quatre recognized it immediately. "Please Samanta, let's not start this argument again. Duo and I had to go and as you can see, we're both fine. We were needed and what we contributed mattered."

Quatre's sister continued to frown. "You know it goes against everything father taught us," she said looking sad at her brother's continued rebelling from their father's pacifist ways.

"Please," Quatre pleaded quietly, suddenly weary of all the arguments and looks of disapproval he got regularly from his twenty-nine older sisters. 

Duo stood by, watching Quatre receive another subtle put down from a member of his family. He could see Quatre had taken all he could of it, and he had too. Reaching over to grab a hold of his friend's elbow, he pulled his friend away from the surprised sister. "Let's go, Quaret. I'm tired."

Heading out to the front of the private Winner Corporation shuttle terminal, Duo began to look for a taxi, not wanting to be enclosed in a car with a woman who was set on finding fault with either himself or Quatre.

"What do you think you're doing?" Samanta asked the braided boy as she chased after them.

"I'm going to hail a taxi and get the hell out of here," Duo replied curtly, his lack of sleep was causing his nerves to feel frayed and his irritation to quickly come forward. "We're just not up to a holier-than-thou lecture from someone who knows squat about what we had to do."

Quatre stood quietly next to his friend who happened to be looking frantically for a vehicle labeled a taxi. He hated to tell Duo, but he was pretty sure it was too early in the day for a taxi service to be running randomly by a private shuttle terminal.

"I'm sorry," the woman behind them said, softly apologetic. "We...I was just so worried about you. Please promise me Quatre that you won't fight in another war if you can help it."

Quatre closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. After a moment he let it out slowly, opened his eyes and faced his sister. "I can't promise that Samanta," he replied softly. "If I'm called to help end a dispute, I'll have to do my best to try and stop it. It's not as if I go looking for a war to jump into, is it?"

Though disappointed by his answer, the blond woman shook her head, trying to accept the fact that her little brother, the pride of the entire family, would never be the pacifist her father had dreamed of. "No, trouble always comes looking for you," she replied quietly. 

"But it might make you feel better to know that we destroyed our gundams, for good this time," he added as he watched Duo strain his neck to see if a taxi was approaching.

A small relieved smile grew on his sister's face, replaced slowly with a look of concern. "That must have been difficult for you, to destroy something that you created," she said, trying to be sympathetic.

"Not as hard as you would think," Quatre replied with a small smile of his own. He was secretly hoping that he could be done with fighting. It never came easy to him and he didn't know if he could do it again, even if the necessity of it came again. Destroying the gundams meant that all five of the pilots had hoped to go on with their lives, to finally enjoy the peace they'd fought and sacrificed so much for.

"I know you two just love to take taxi cabs, but my car is right there," she pointed to her left to the aquamarine colored, sleek sedan. "How about I give you a lecture-free ride home?"

Duo turned to judge the sincerity of her statement by her facial expression, then nodded his head in agreement.

A few short minutes later, the three were in the luxury car and heading down the mostly deserted street. Quatre sat in the front passenger seat next to his sister while Duo sat in the seat directly behind her.

"Construction has begun on the top floor of the office building," Samanta said out of nowhere in a casual, conversational tone of voice, bringing both boys' attention to her.

"When will it be finished?" Quatre asked, his face brightening.

"We've been promised by the architect that it will be finished and passing final inspection within one month," she replied.

"Any trouble?" Quatre asked.

"A couple of the contractors were slow in performing," the blond woman replied, "but the architect got on their case pretty quickly and work sped up and is back on schedule."

"What's going on?" Duo asked, his head resting heavily against the head rest in the back seat of the car. At the moment he felt comfortable enough in the luxury leather seats that he could doze off and sleep the day away from where he was sitting.

Quatre turned around in his seat to fully look at his friend, excitement lighting his eyes. "After you hinted that you might strike out on your own, I decided it might be a good thing for me to do also," he answered.

"You're going to move out of that huge mansion and away from all the hired help?" Duo asked in disbelief. He'd been the beneficiary of Quatre's lifestyle for half a year, and though it sometimes bothered him to have other people doing his everyday chores for him, he was secretly relieved not to have to do laundry or cook for himself. He knew those tasks were going to be part of his everyday life once he moved into a place of his own on L-2, but why rush it? But after seeing Quatre so at ease in that kind of pampered atmosphere, he had a hard time picturing the Winner boy, heir to billions, doing the mundane chores everyone else did on a daily basis.

Quatre nodded his head in answer to Duo's question. "The top floor of the corporate offices has been vacant since... my father's demise." He obviously stumbled over the last part of the sentence. "It was my father's personal space, and I've decided to turn it into several apartments. One will be my establishment, and I was kind of hoping I could talk you into staying, taking on a job at the corporation and keeping me company."

Duo's eyes widened at the offer. Quatre was generous to a fault, but he knew he couldn't accept it. "It sound great, Quatre..." he began, looking regretful already.

"But?" Quatre asked, reading his friend's facial expression perfectly.

Duo grinned, looking apologetic. "But the whole reason I'm moving is to prove to myself that I can be on my own again, that I can take care of myself and be independent. You're offer is more than generous, Quatre. But I can't accept it. I'm sorry."

Quatre gave his friend a small, sad but reassuring smile. "I understand, Duo. It's just going to be hard to see you leave. I guess I just have to face the fact that I'm on my own now, too. All my friends have gone on with their lives and I guess it's time I let go and try to move on also."

Duo felt his heart aching at the sight and sound of his friend, knowing the blond had missed the other former pilots, their friends, during their half year separation as much as he had, especially Trowa, who had been Quatre's closest friend during the first war. Suddenly Quatre Winner, the boy who had everything anyone could ever dream of having, seemed sad and lonely. It was odd to feel sorry for him as he had more money than some countries and lived in a luxurious and corporate world filled with kowtowing adults and female siblings who doted on him hand and foot. Most people would consider themselves the luckiest person in the solar system to be in Quatre's shoes. Well, that is, until they got to know how hard it was carrying the responsibility that the only male heir of the Winner family did and how isolating his position could be.

"I'll always be just a vid call away, Quatre. You know that, don't you?" Duo asked, looking intently into the aquamarine eyes. "I'll come running back here if you need me."

Quatre gave him a trembling smile and nodded. "And we'll talk often, won't we?"

"Sure we will. Every week," Duo assured him and reached out to ruffle the silky blond hair that covered his friend's head. 

Quatre's smile seemed a little forced as he turned forward, and the car remained silent until Samanta turned on a classical CD for them to listen to.

As soon as they arrived home, both boys retired to their rooms and slept the remainder of the day. Duo finally ventured out of his room around six p.m. when his stomach refused to let him ignore its need to be filled.

Walking calmly down the stairs, he could hear the strains of music coming from the music conservatory just several doors from the front entryway. Duo followed the strains of string instruments and let the melodious melody lead him to the correct room, where he entered quietly and leaned against the door frame to listen.

Quatre stood before a group of female musicians, his violin tucked under his chin as he counted out the number of notes until he began to play. The piece they were playing was rather slow and melancholy. It wasn't what Duo would categorize as sad, but more of a reflective piece. But something was definitely missing. Not one of the instruments seemed to play a distinct melody. 

As the music played on, Duo observed the musicians; obviously, everyone a Winner. The small orchestra was dominated by blonds with a smattering of darker haired females, many of them looking like each other though obviously younger or older in appearance. There were several different sizes of violins being played as well as two cellos, a harp, flutes, an oboe and a few other wind instruments. Even with his untrained ear, Duo could tell they were all accomplished musicians and wondered if they had all been genetically engineered to be that way.

As the piece came to a close, Quatre's violin played a down scale of triple notes and Duo felt a lot of emotion within the music room. Whatever the piece, it seemed to affect all those present.

Quatre lowered his violin and opened his eyes as the last note of the song faded from the strings of his instrument. He lowered the rest from his chin and smiled at his sisters and gave them a quiet word of thanks, then caught sight of his friend leading against the wall, listening to them rehearse.

"I'll be back in a few minutes if you wish to continue without me," he told the small orchestra. Several of the women put down their instruments and reached for a bottle of water that sat next to each chair.

"That was nice," Duo offered in greeting to his approaching friend.

"It's a piece I selected as a gift to my father," Quatre said, smiling a bit sadly. Duo knew his friend was still mourning the loss of the patriarch of the family. He'd learned from Quatre that he and his father didn't see eye to eye when it came to the politics of Earth and the Colonies. Mr. Winner had been a die-hard pacifist and had sacrificed his own life for his principles, something that made the surviving Winners both proud and sorrowful at the same time. 

"Is there a solo part that was missing?" Duo asked.

Quatre nodded. "My sister, Irea, is an accomplished singer and will sing the words. We're going to accompany her."

Now the lack of a melody made sense to the American. "How's she doing, by the way?" Duo asked, remembering Quatre's oldest sister had been injured trying to save Quatre from being hurt when the satellite their father died in exploded and sent their shuttle reeling from the enormous blast. The result of her efforts had been the crushing of some vertebrae, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. It was just one more regret that Quatre had heaped upon his already over-loaded plate of guilt. Though she lived on another colony and rarely visited L-4, just the mention of her name always made Quatre feel sad with regret.

"She's doing well," Quatre replied with a faint smile. Though he appeared to be pleased at the answer he was giving his friend, there was a slight pull of his eyebrows together that showed Duo his friend was still feeling pain from the memory of his sister's sacrifice for him. "She's back to practicing medicine again on L-13. She really is an excellent doctor Duo, and people flock to her clinic to have her for their physician."

"I'm looking forward to meeting her," Duo said with a grin directed at his friend, hoping to cheer him up. "And I guess if she's going to sing this song for you that she must be a talented singer, too."

"She sings like an angel," Quatre said with a genuine smile. "I think my father had the lab that engineered us to put a gene for talent in music within all of us. Each one of us either play or sing. It seemed important to my father, though he didn't display any of those talents he had developed in his children. I guess you could say he produced his own musical orchestra and entertainment," Quatre motioned to the small group of musicians behind him. "Too bad he didn't live long enough to fully appreciate it."

"What makes you think he isn't enjoying it?" Duo asked with a questioning expression on his face. "I'd like to think there's a life after this one. There's certainly enough books on the subject of people visiting the hereafter after technically dying and then return to tell about it. I would think a man like your father, who put so much into life, having produced so many talented children, wouldn't just fade away into a state of non-existence after he died."

"I hope you're right Duo." Quatre replied thoughtfully. "I sometimes hope he can see and hear me, maybe even help me along when things are tough."

"If he can, I'm sure he does." Duo said putting his arm around his friend's shoulders. "And talking about helping," Duo abruptly changed the subject, "how about you come with me and help me get something to eat. I'm so hungry that I'm hollow."

The blond chuckled. "Alright, but I have to come back and practice. The last battle kind of interrupted several weeks of practice and I have to catch up."

The two pilots left the music room and made their way to the kitchen, only to be waylaid by one of the many Winner sisters, Talia. She was the third oldest of Quatre's sisters and always seemed to be parenting the two teenagers, deeming it her job, since no one else seemed interested or capable of taking up the chore.

"There you two are," the tall, willowy blond said with an indulgent smile aimed at the two.

"Evening, Mam," Duo said politely with a nod of his head.

Quatre stopped before her and received a kiss from his older sibling on both of his cheeks. "Hello, Talia," he said quietly with a tolerant smile, wondering what she wanted with him now.

"I understand both of our little nestlings are flying the coop, so to speak," the older woman said, searching both boys' faces.

"I leave for L-2 right after the program for your father," Duo replied, ignoring the comment that put him in the same category as a little bird that was learning to fly. He was far from inexperienced and innocent, but didn't harbor on the point, letting Quatre's sister indulge in her little fantasy that he and Quatre were young and untried in the ways of life.

"And I understand you have a job and a place to stay?" She leveled her eyes on the braided teen while raising one quizzical eyebrow.

"Yes, it's all been taken care of. I just need to show up and start working," the braided teen answered with a grin.

"Good!" Both Duo and Quatre looked at each other. The older woman seemed much too pleased about something and that put them on their guard.

"What do you mean?" Quatre asked warily.

"I have a gift for you, both of you. A surprise." Her eyes lit up with a glint of mischievousness. "Starting tomorrow morning at nine a.m." The unnerving smile was still there.

"What surprise?" Duo asked, feeling wary.

Talia brought her finely manicured hands together and actually rubbed the palms together with some sort of maniacal expression of a plan about to be sprung on the unsuspecting. "I've hired someone to come in tomorrow and teach you how to live alone. Now that you are both going to be living a single man's life, you need to know how to take care of yourselves."

"Um...I appreciate the gesture, but..." Quatre began, searching quickly for a way to beg off from her gift without offending one of his older, very influential sisters.

"No buts," The blond haired woman said firmly, her smile fading as she took on the appearance of a stern business woman who was used to calling the shots and having things done her way. "We've all agreed that this is the wisest gift we could give you two. It will make it easier for us to sleep at night knowing you know how to cook basic meals and clean up after yourselves. I would imagine that you wouldn't want us to come into your homes and do that for you, now do you little brother?" There was a wicked gleam in the blue eyes that settled onto Quatre that told him his sister wasn't making an idle threat.

"Talia," he began in a compromising voice. "We know how to take care of ourselves. We've been on our own for quite some time and survived." 

"Can you cook?"

Both teens shared a worried look with each other, remembering the near burning down of a safehouse when the both of them tried to cook a simple dinner. The other pilots had banned them from cooking in any safehouse kitchen when other attempts at making a meal proved that neither of them were competent in a kitchen nor had any hint of a talent in the culinary arts. They had both learned to eat cold cereal, managed the toaster fairly well, and perfected the task of heating up pre-packaged microwave meals and popcorn. 

"We're not totally helpless," Duo said as he straightened his back and looked the blond woman in the eyes with an air of mild indignation. Quatre smiled, silently congratulating his friend on not caving in front of his sister's intimidating looks although that smile lasted only until Duo spoke up again.

"I can open a can of anything and eat it, and I certainly have mastered making pudding and popcorn as well as toast."

Quatre inwardly groaned as he watched his friend look decidedly proud of his short list of accomplishments. Without a doubt, Duo just managed to land them in a cooking class, and the blond knew there was no way out of it now.

Talia's eyes narrowed, and Duo's self confident attitude began to waver under the silent assault. "You may have had to live that way during the war," she began in a low, dangerous voice. "But you are no longer forced to live like fugitives on the lam. You are past living on the run and scraping by, and as you are going out into the world to prove yourselves, the girls and I have decided, and I think more wisely than before, that you must learn the basics so that you will both remain healthy by becoming competent at taking care of yourselves."

"Listen," Duo began, his hackles were definitely up at the very idea that he couldn't take care of himself. "No offense," he continued, looking anything other than happy, "but I've been taking care of myself since I can remember. I don't need anyone telling me I can't."

"Duo," Quatre jumped in, seeing his best friend and sister about to go at each other's throat. "Talia means well, and she's right. It wouldn't hurt us to learn a few tricks in the kitchen. Just think of it, we could make ourselves eggs, maybe omelets, or..." the blue eyes began to light up, "Eggs Benedict!"

Talia looked at her little brother with an incredulous expression on her face. "That might be just a little too tricky, Quatre," she said. "But I think eggs and omelets are a good place to start, along with cooked grain cereal and pancakes or waffles. Mr. Bruce will also teach you how to make some simple lunches and dinners."

"Mr. Bruce?" Quatre wondered out loud at the same time Duo covered his face with both hands. Looking at his friend, who was groaning in a miserable way, he asked, "What? Who's Mr. Bruce?"

"Please don't tell me it's that irritating guy on the television who cooks from scratch in a kitchen where everything is in pastel colors."

Talia looked perplexed at Duo's reaction. "Of course it is," she replied. "There is only one Mr. Bruce. He's so talented and his dishes are works of art. It's only because of a connection that I got him to agree to teach the both of you what you need to know, starting tomorrow morning."

Quatre looked to his mortified friend. "I don't know who this person is. Why does this disturb you, Duo?"

"Shit, Quatre." Duo swore, unrepentant. "His television show comes on when you've been at the office. The household staff watches it every day. His 'works of art' are complicated and look artsy fartsy. No way are we going to be able to cook like that."

"Of course not," Quatre's sister interrupted with a feminine laugh at Duo's description of a man she felt was a genius. "He's been told what to expect, two teens with two left thumbs when it comes to cooking. He'll go easy on you, he promised," Talia added. "Besides," she reached out and affectionately ruffled the silky blond hair of her little brother as she continued. "He's the best, and Quatre deserves the best we can acquire for him."

Now it was the former Sandrock pilot's turn to roll his eyes. "Talia..." he warned.

"Alright." She raised her hands in surrender, knowing Quatre hated hearing anyone referring to him in such a doting way. Men, she thought, were way too prideful. "But it's true. Mr. Bruce Wainwright is handsome, brilliant, gifted, generous..."

"And oh so gay," Duo added with a roll of his eyes.

"No he's not," Talia defended the man.

"No one can sashay around a kitchen like that with a definitely lisp and a fondness for kitchen appliances, pastel in color, without being a flamer," Duo retorted. "Not that I have anything against gays," he added quickly. "But geesh, to be stuck in a kitchen all day and not knowing if the guy is checking the buns in the oven or my buns is rather disturbing."

Quatre snickered, suddenly finding the whole situation ridiculous. "I'll be there to report which ones Duo."

The braided teen looked seriously at his friend. "Who said it was only my buns that I'm worried about."

"He's not gay," Talia insisted.

"Yes he is!" Duo insisted.

"Want to make a bet on that?"

Quatre and Duo looked suspiciously at the older blond woman. "What do you want to wager?" Quatre asked.

"If he's not gay, you and Duo will take the full three-day course and prepare me a dinner, proving you can live by yourselves. If he's gay, you need only take the one day I've pre-paid for."

Duo turned to his friend after hearing the wager. "There's no way someone could act like that guy does and not be gay," he said under his breath.

"I don't know, Duo," Quatre looked nervously at his sister's smug smile. "I think she knows something we don't."

Duo looked over at the older woman. "She's just putting on a good act to get us to take the wager. That guy is as queer as the three dollar bill."

Quatre decided quickly to put his trust in Duo, who was usually a good judge of character. "Alright, we accept," he announced, then they both shook hands with his sister.

A broad smile of victory crossed the woman's fair face. "I'll see both of you tomorrow morning at nine a.m. in the kitchen."

"How are you going to find out if he's gay or not?" Duo asked as she turned to walk away. 

Talia turned her head as she walked down the hall towards the music room. Over her shoulder, with a smile still on her face, she answered. "I'll be sure to ask his wife when I call to confirm tonight."

"Damn!"

Quatre sighed with accepted defeat then put an arm around his friend's shoulder and turned him towards the direction of the kitchen so they could commiserate losing a bet while eating leftovers.

The next morning at nine a.m., both former gundam pilots were found in attendance in the large kitchen of the Winner mansion. Breakfast had been at eight that morning and all the evidence of that meal had been cleaned up and put away, ready for the cooking lesson to begin.

Before the two teens stood a tall, slender and rather elegant looking man in dress slacks, a white long sleeved shirt with a collar that was open at the neck, who was rolling up his newly unbuttoned cuffs. His full head of thick brown hair was cut short and topped an oval shaped face with brown, thoughtful eyes and a definite cleft in his chin. He was, as Talia and the kitchen staff proclaimed, handsome, and he had a commanding presence and an air of confidence that both boys silently concluded had to be a factor in the man's success.

The three had already been introduced, and being the professional he was, Mr. Bruce Wainwright ignored the petulant faces and proceeded with lesson one.

"To start off the morning, I would like the two of you to tell me what you do know how to cook."

Naming the list of items the two could prepare lasted no more than ten seconds, leaving the room silent until the chef realized that Quatre, who had answered for both of them, had finished.

"Well, then," the man continued unfazed. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. Shall we begin?" He turned around and opened the box he had carried in with him when he entered the house. From within it, he pulled out three sturdy, off-white aprons and handed one to each boy and donned one himself.

Next, from out of the box, he pulled out a book and lay it on the table while other cooking related items were brought out. Both curious boys looked at the cover of the book to see their tutor's face on the cover. He was posed in a kitchen setting with an apron on, much like the one they were wearing, with a cheese eating grin on his face. The bold title above his smiling head was A Single Man's Guide to the Kitchen.

"Now," Mr. Bruce, as he asked them to call him, turned abruptly, startling the two. "Let's begin with the basics. Do you know what these utensils are?" With a wave of his hand he motioned to a set of measuring cups and spoons, a whisk, spatula and tongs.

Duo looked at Quatre and raised his eyebrows in question. The only thing he'd used of the items on the table were the different size cups and spoons for measuring out precise amounts of chemicals to make bombs, but he didn't think the man needed to know that information.

"He means for cooking," Quatre said under his breath to his friend.

"We've never used them before... for cooking, that is," Duo answered.

The man turned, with practiced patience and held up the four metal cups, attached together by a little metal ring. "These are measuring cups. You use these for measuring ingredients when following recipes. The largest equals one cup, the second largest in size is three-quarters of a cup. The third..."

Quatre snuck a look at Duo in time to see the other boy stick his lip out and puff out some air, ruffling his long, shaggy bangs. He could see Duo shared his sentiment that this was going to be a very long day.

After being instructed on the proper tools used in a kitchen, Mr. Bruce then went on to explain how to follow a recipe and the terms used in cooking and baking. The three then worked slowly and carefully to prepare a simple lunch. By twelve noon there sat on the table a platter containing perfectly cooked pasta, topped by a rich spaghetti sauce and meatballs.

The two boys, with their aprons splattered with tomato sauce and some grease, waited somewhat nervously as Rashid sat at the large table in front of a dish filled with the meal the two boys prepared. The older man took his time in taking a long, indrawn breath of the aromatic dish, and gave the two an appreciative nod. They observed nervously as he put his fork into the pasta and watched him as he slowly swirled the sauce into the noodles then removed his utensil to take a little piece of a meatball, spear it on the fork, then go back to the mixed portion of sauce and pasta.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Rashid!" Duo cried out, exasperated. "Quit playing with it and eat the damn stuff."

The large Maguanac chuckled, knowing exactly what his slow movements were doing to the two anxious boys, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He caught the eye of the boys' tutor and saw the amusement on his face also. Bringing his fork up to his mouth, he carefully placed it inside, then made slow work of chewing and enjoying the flavors. He kept his expression neutral as he chewed, and closed his eyes.

"Well, is it any good?" Quatre asked, putting a restraining hand on Duo's arm to keep him from doing something drastic.

Rashid swallowed, raised his eyes and smiled. "It's delicious."

There was a moment of silence in kitchen.

"We did it?" Duo said, his voice reflecting his surprise.

"You're not just saying that, are you?" Quatre asked the man who was almost blindly devoted to him. "Just to be kind?"

"Taste it yourselves," Rashid said, motioning to the platter before him.

Mr. Bruce smiled at the two boys. "Go ahead and eat, that's what cooking is all about, the enjoyment of what you prepare."

"Will you join us?" Quatre asked as he and Duo took a seat and reached for a plate from the stack of plates on the table.

"Of course," he nodded, and moved to sit beside the large dark-haired man.

Duo was the first to take a bite of the food, and he hummed his appreciation, He had a few more fork fulls before Quatre took his first taste and their eyes turned to meet each others' and a happy grin of accomplishment lit their faces. It went without saying that they were both pleased and proud of their first attempt at cooking.

At the end of the three days, both former gundam pilots, now seventeen years old, were ready to face the world on their own and felt more secure with being in a kitchen and preparing whatever was written in Mr. Bruce's cookbook. Over the time their tutor had spent with them, they had successfully been guided through reading, analyzing and carrying out instructions for recipes including: omelets, stew, a variety of soups, hamburgers, stakes and vegetables and salads. He also took time to teach them about cleaning up after themselves and doing laundry.

The evening of the third day of their lessons had the two teens standing nervously once again as Quatre's sister, Talia, sat at the kitchen table with a plate of food in front of her. After placing a napkin on her lap, she picked up the salad fork and tasted the leafy green salad mixed with pine nuts, dried cranberries and a white balsamic vinegarette. After one bite, she looked up at the two and gave then an approving smile.

The second course was a vegetable soup that she also found very appealing but only finished half of the bowl, anxious to see what else her 'boys' had prepared for her.

With Mr. Bruce standing to the side observing his students and Talia's response to their attempt at preparing a full course meal, the plate of paella was set before her. A warm smile lit the woman's face as she looked up to Mr. Bruce. "You cheated," she laughed lightly. "You know this is my favorite."

"I'll have you know they prepared this without any instructions from me," he told her, beaming a grin at the two boys who were happy to receive his support.

After two bites of the prepared Spanish dish, the blond woman looked up with a growing smile. "Excellent job, you both pass," she declared. "Now, come and join me. This is too delicious not to share."

And so that evening meal passed pleasantly with Talia listening to the exuberant teens describe their kitchen adventures. All in all it was a very positive experience.

As the meal ended, Mr. Bruce packed up his kitchen tools and supplies into his box, and with it in his arms he addressed his charges one last time. "In honor of your successfully completing my crash course," he grinned at them both. "I'll be sending you each a box much like this one, with tools, some spices and a cook book to help you establish your newly acquired skills in your new homes."

Both boys politely thanked the man and saw him to the door. After handshakes were traded, the large, ornate door was closed behind Mr. Bruce and the two friends turned to each other and smiled gleefully.

"Well," Quatre grinned as he looked at Duo, feeling very pleased with the experience. "We didn't burn the house down."

"The guys would be proud of us." Duo grinned back. "Maybe one day we can fix a meal for them, have a reunion or something."

"That would be great!" Quatre replied, wondering what they could fix that would astound their friends who had refused to let the two into the kitchen other than to do dishes or clean up. 

The two left the entryway and moved towards the music room. "I have to practice," Quatre announced, looking apologetic. "The program is tomorrow evening and Irea arrives in the morning, so I'm going to be tied up most of the day."

"Don't worry," Duo replied, knowing Quatre hated to leave him by himself, especially when their time together was quickly drawing to a close. "I'll find something to do and try to stay out of trouble at the same time."

"Think you can manage to do both?" Quatre laughed, the sound of his light hearted laughter echoing in the open space of the foyer.

"I'll try." Duo gave him a roguish grin, and the blond knew that was as close to a promise from Duo that he would get.

The braided teen spent the evening in the TV lounge, sitting with Rashid and a couple other of the Maguanacs he'd come to know very well during his stay at the Winner mansion. Together they watched several movies, including a war flick, an intriguing espionage movie and an action adventure film, loosely based on the Arabian Nights. Bowls of popcorn and tall glasses of root beer floats kept their stomachs content throughout.

Retiring about midnight, Duo closed his eyes, thinking of the next day with both a sense of excitement and sadness. He would be leaving L-4, with all its comfort and support to begin a new sort of adventure, namely, a job and a place of his own as well as a chance to prove he could live independently. But he'd also be leaving the home he'd known for the last six months and the last of his friends. At Quatre's home he'd had a large extended family and more people who cared about his well being than ever before in his life. His heart constricted a bit at the thought of leaving all of that behind, not to mention Quatre at the top of that list. But before he dipped into any form of regret, he cleared his mind from the negative thoughts, forcing himself to think about the positive aspects of his leaving. With those thoughts drifting through his mind, he yawned and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Duo and Quatre met for breakfast, as was their habit, though neither offered to cook it themselves, practicing their new found talents. Duo chuckled when he commented to Quatre that old habits died hard.

They separated soon after with Quatre going to the airport to meet Irea and when they returned, they practiced in the music room for the rest of the morning.

Duo changed into his swim trunks and went down to the large, outdoor pool to swim some laps. An hour later he returned to his room to shower and pack up his belongings for his trip to L-2 that evening. He started with his clothes, surprised at the amount of clothing he'd acquired since living with Quatre. His blond friend had lavished him with new clothing and anything else that he needed for his room when he'd first arrived on L-4 after their graduation. He hadn't realized until he began to empty his dresser just how much Quatre had spent on him. He had one large suitcase, compliments of his friend, and no idea how he would pack all of his belongings in there. Making a quick decision, he sought out Rashid and inquired about boxing up some of his possessions and having them shipped to L-2. The Maguanac assured him it would be no trouble and that if he would leave the articles of clothing on his bed, all would be packaged for him and sent along.

He returned to his room and sorted out what he wanted to take with him, including several pairs of jeans and t-shirts, one suit, just in case, his boxers, socks and three pairs of shoes.

The bathroom came next, and he removed his shampoo and conditioner from the shower and dried them off and placed them in his duffle. He moved next to the medicine cabinet, he opened it and began to empty the shelves. Deodorant, shaving cream and shaver, aspirin for his frequent headaches, and then, as he reached for his prescription that he'd taken for the last eight months for his depression and mood swings, his hand paused. He hesitantly picked the bottle up and studied it, reading the label to take one pill, morning and night to stave off depression.

He hated his dependence on the damn pill. He felt good, his life was moving in a positive direction, he didn't see the need for taking the prescribed medication any longer. But he knew Quatre wouldn't let him stop taking them, not while he was living under his roof. His friend had asked him every day since he'd moved to L-4 if he'd taken his pills, to which he always answered yes. He couldn't lie to Quatre, and with his friend's Space Heart, he wouldn't get away with it if he tried, so he'd always taken his medication and answered the daily question honestly.

Shaking the container, he realized he was getting low; there was maybe a month's worth was left. Looking up at his reflection in the mirror, he came to the decision that as soon as the container was empty, he would prove to himself and to the others that he didn't need the medication anymore and that he would be fine without them. With that decided, he placed the plastic capped cylinder into his duffle, emptied out the rest of the cabinet and zipped it up. 

A buffet dinner was served that evening and the house was nearly bulging with company, most of them Winners, their spouses and offspring. Duo and Quatre, dressed in dark suits, moved about the room together, determined to spend as much time in each others' company during this last evening together, even if they were surrounded by a multitude of people. They greeted the female members of Quatre's family and got reacquainted with them and their families.

Quatre proudly introduced his friend to his wheelchair bound sister, Irea. The blond woman's eyes sparkled with warmth greeted them both with grace and charm. Duo expressed his pleasure in finally meeting her, and thanking her for helping Quatre during the war.

Irea's blue eyes rose to meet Quatre's. The love and affection she felt for her younger brother was evident her gaze. "That's what families are for," she replied softly in reply to Duo's statement. Quatre leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, pausing in the bent position as she reached up and hugged him. 

Before long the gathered assembly was called into the conservatory for the evening's program. Talia stood to address the audience as the Mistress of Ceremony for the night.

"Good evening friends, family, sisters and brother to a very special evening honoring and acknowledging the achievements of our father. Tonight, we celebrate his life and remember the man that should never be forgotten, for he was a man of peace who helped build the most successful of all the colonies and never forgot his role as a husband and father. If you are listening, Papa," Talia's eyes rose and glistened at she spoke to the air, "this is for you. We love and miss you more than words can express."

The atmosphere of the large room, now crowded with people in chairs facing the stage at the front of the room, was calm with an air of expectance surrounding the assemblage filled with participants and audience members. Musician's chairs and music stands covered a good part of that stage with open cases that housed the instruments that lay waiting for their masters to come play them.

A young woman, who was easily identified as one of the younger of Quatre's older sisters, though Duo had no idea what her name was, came to the center of the stage while another identically looking sister took up a position at the piano. She introduced the song she would be singing as being one that had always been her parents' favorites. With the piano taking the harmony, the two performed a love song titled "When I Fall In Love", a pre colony song that had endured the test of time.

Several other songs, some in Arabic, were performed, perfectly if Duo was any judge. Then several more sisters came out in costumes adorned with many scarves and performed what Quatre stated as a traditional Arabian Nomad dance. Duo quite enjoyed the spectacle, though he was now a bit uncomfortable and hot under the collar from watching the scarfs artfully and seductively taken away to reveal quite a bit of the lovely ladies' legs and bejeweled navels.

Poems had been composed and read by a few as well as several solo performances on instruments.

"My turn," Quatre whispered to his friend as one of his sisters finished playing the harp. "Hope you enjoy the song I selected," he added. "It really speaks to my father from my heart."

Duo nodded, not knowing what to say other than quickly wishing his friend good luck.

From the audience, the musicians came to the stand and took their places. Talia wheeled Irea up a small ramp and then moved the wheelchair to the area just left of the center of the stage near the microphone. 

The room hushed as Talia leaned over her sister's chair and introduced the next performances into the microphone. "My brother's gift tonight is a beautiful piece he selected for this evening and it is also pre-colony and very appropriate. Irea will sing this selection for us, the words and feelings represent the thoughts that many of us would express to father if we had the chance to do so again."

She carefully removed the microphone from its stand and handed it to her sister sitting patiently in the wheelchair, then turned and quickly left the stage as the lights dimmed and a stage light shone down on Irea. After Talia left the stage, Quatre stood from his chair and took the position opposite his wheelchair bound sister and gave her a warm smile. Irea nodded, silently stating she was ready and Quatre raised his bow, signaling the orchestra following his lead.

With a nod of his head, the strings made a soft trembling sound as Quatre and the lone harpist plucked three haunting notes. Irea tilted her head up, closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting her beautiful, clear voice speak for the Winner children.

  
  


The first words came out softly, the vowel carrying into four succeeding triplets, going down the scale.

  
  


'God,

Oh, God,'

  
  


Then closing here eyes, displaying an attitude of prayer, she continued, her sweet voice mesmerizing the audience.

  
  


'May the light, illuminate the night the way your spirit illuminates my soul.'

  
  


Her face softened and her eyes opened as if searching for something above her and her voice became soft and entreating.

  
  


'Papa, can you hear me?

Papa , can you see me?

Papa, can you find me in the night?

  
  


Papa, can you hear me? 

Papa, are you near me?

Papa, can you help me not be frightened?'

  
  


The rest of the strings then came in as the singer's voice rose in question, her voice going from low notes to high, strong ones.

  
  


'Looking at the sky I seem to see a million eyes, which ones are yours?

Where are you now that yesterday has waved goodbye and closed its door?

The nights are so much darker.

The moon is so much colder.

The world I see is so much bigger now that I'm alone.'

  
  


The music softened again as Irea continued, the audience clinging to every word and every note she gifted them.

  
  


'Papa, please forgive me,

Try to understand me

Papa don't you know I had no choice?'

  
  


Duo took in a sharp breath as he watched Quatre play with his eyes closed, his body swaying slightly to the music as he poured his heart into this song. He knew the words were truly what Quatre needed to say to his father, some reconciliation to their many arguments about the war were finally being put to rest. Quatre was looking for further peace. 

  
  


'Can you hear me praying?

Anything I'm saying?

Even though the night is filled with voices.'

  
  


A slight smile came to the violinist's lips as the next part of the song brought to mind many happy memories that overshadowed the difficult ones.

  
  


'I remember everything you taught me, every book we've ever read.

And all the words in all the books helped to face what lies ahead.

The days are so much taller,

And I feel so much smaller,

The moon is twice as lonely 

And the stars are half as bright'.

  
  


Raising the bow off the strings of his violin, Quatre and the harpist plucked notes again in perfect unison as the other stringed instruments played almost impossibly soft as Irea's voice trembled slightly as she finished the song.

  
  


Papa, how I love you.

Papa, how I need you.

Papa, how I miss you kissing me.....good....night.

  
  


The four down-scaled triples played almost mournfully and as the song ended, the sound of sniffling was the only sound that filled the otherwise silent room until Quatre slowly lowered his violin. There was no applause following the song as the silent thoughtfulness that filled the room seemed much more appropriate. Tissues were quickly passed around to wipe at the tears that were found in almost everyone's eyes. 

That song properly ended the program, then Talia came back to the center of the stage and standing next to Irea with tear tracks faintly visible on her porcelain face, she thanked every one for attending and invited them to stay for dessert that would be served in her father's garden.

Quatre carefully put his violin away, though it took longer for him to leave the stage as each sister seemed to want to embrace and speak to him about the feelings his song provoked. Duo watched, both amused and slightly jealous of the close and adoring family his friend had. Quatre was certainly a blessed person to have so much love and caring in his life. But, he mused to himself, those two words were synonymous with his Arabian friend, love and caring. Shouldn't a man reap what he sowed? 

When at last the violin was returned to Quatre's room, the two friends made their way to the dessert table. They only had one hour before they had to leave for Duo's shuttle which was the red-eye to L-2.

Rashid drove the two former pilots to the terminal while the two friends made promises to keep in touch and each gave advice to the other on how to get along without him.

Their smiles were tremulous as was their laughter, knowing they were really saying their final goodbye. They both walked quiet and subdued to the check-in desk with Rashid taking care of Duo's lone large suitcase and all other arrangements as a moment of awkwardness set in.

When Rashid's business was concluded, the two followed his direction as to where Duo would be boarding. It was a bit of a walk to Gate Eighteen, and not much in the way of words passed between the three. Duo checked in at the gate and when the boarding call was issued shortly after, he turned to his friend, knowing the moment for their final goodbye had come. But as his sight rested on the blond teen, it was to see Quatre's blue expressive eyes looking pained and glossy. His friend managed to give him a rather pathetic smile of resignation and Duo knew he must have looked the same and he realized that saying goodbye would always be something he would hate to do. It was just too heart wrenching.

Not able to say the words of farewell, the two moved forward and suddenly embraced, holding onto each other for a long, silent moment. 

"Don't forget me," Quatre finally spoke in a strained whisper. "After all, we're blood brothers."

"Never," Duo declared, his voice deep with emotion.

"Only Allah knows how much I'm going to miss you." Quatre said, with a slight sniffle.

"Me too."

"Master Duo had better board now," Rashid said softly, obviously hesitant to cut into their farewell.

Duo stood back and hastily wiped away the embarrassing moisture from off his cheeks with his sleeve. "Bye," he said in a small voice, then clutching his duffle bag, he turned to walk quickly to the gate, his boarding ticket in hand.

"See you later!" Quatre called after him; opting not to say goodbye as it suddenly seemed a word that felt much too final.

Duo didn't turn around, but lifted his arm and waved his hand as he disappeared into the gate leading to the late night shuttle.

Quatre sighed deeply, then moved to the observation window and stood there with Rashid, a comforting presence behind him, until the commuter ship drifted away from the secured hatch and then steadily moved away from the colony.

"I already feel rather lost without him, Rashid," the blond teen confessed. "He's been my friend during and after the war and now he's gone, just like the others."

The large man's hand came to rest on the boy's slender but strong shoulder. "It's the way of life, Master Quatre," the older man said softly. "As you get older, you get used to people coming in and out of your life, but it doesn't mean it's the end of your friendship. It just means you have to work at it a bit harder in order to keep it." Quatre nodded, agreeing with his trusted friend, but the ache in his heart overshadowed the wise words. 

"I do think this is a good thing, Master Quatre." Rashid continued. "Maybe you have become too dependent on him and need this time to decide what direction you want to do with your own life, your future." He chuckled after a moment. "And here, all this time, Master Duo felt he was becoming too dependent on you."

"That's not such a bad thing, for a while at least, is it Rashid?"

"No," the older man replied thoughtfully. "After all, the Maguanacs are all my friends and family. We live separate lives but depend on each other wholly when we really need backup of any kind." 

The blond nodded as his eyes stayed on the space where the shuttle had progressed to, missing his friend with every second that passed and further separated them. Rashid was probably right, he thought. He'd come to rely on Duo for his friendship and support, and the American had always been there for him in good times and bad. He decided that Duo more than deserved this break, to find his way and cut out a path to his future, but that didn't mean Quatre would forget the many lessons his fun-seeking friend had taught him. Nor would he let the friendship die. He'd be ready to help Duo for any reason and show him as much as possible how much his friendship meant to him, just like the feeling of friendship the Maguanacs held for each other.

With one last, longing look out the colony's windows at the retreating red blinking lights of the shuttle, he allowed Rashid to turn him and lead him back to the car knowing that tomorrow was going to be a very long and lonely day.

TBC


	2. Three Steps Back

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit, money wise, that is.

Moving On - DFA 27

By: Dyna Dee

Part 2 - Three Steps Back

Warnings: Some angst.

At six a.m. the morning following Duo Maxwell's departure from Quatre and L-4, the braided young man, still dressed in his suit pants and white shirt which appeared slightly wrinkled and mussed from sleeping all night in a space shuttle, could be seen hailing a taxi outside the L-2's shuttle terminal. He smiled broadly at the scruffy looking driver of the dark blue, slightly beat-up car that pulled up to the curb. The trunk popped open immediately and Duo heaved his large suitcase into the empty space but clung to his duffle bag as he took the seat in the back of the sedan sized car labeled Jack's Taxi Service.

"I need to go to 112685 Industrial Way in Cherry Hill," Duo instructed.

"That's kinda far from here, kid," the thin, stubble faced driver growled out in a gravelly voice that sounded like the man had just woken up. "It's going to cost you about twenty-five credits."

"Got ya covered," Duo said with an easy, confident grin. 

The driver looked with a calculating eye at the seemingly self-assured, well-dressed teen to size him up as to whether he could take his word. He then nodded, deciding the kid was probably good for the fare and put the car into drive. He quickly merged his vehicle back into traffic and maneuvered it with an abrupt shifting of lanes and sudden turns through the early morning commute towards the direction of the colony's highway that would take them to the industrial section of L-2. He'd hope to get a rise out of the young man in the back seat, but the guy stared unfazed out of the car window. The half hour ride in the car together was spent in silence other than the low volume of the radio carrying a local shock jock morning show.

With his eyes turned to gaze out the window, Duo noticed how things had changed from his visit to L-2 a little over two weeks ago, when he had been here with Heero. Gone were all the Christmas lights and trimmings in the store front windows. Christmas was long gone now, a thing of the past and somehow the memory left an ache in his heart. His dreams for a normal, happy holiday with at least two of his friends, and maybe Trowa if he could get away, hadn't gone the way he'd expected. Once again, as with every other Christmas holiday he could remember, it proved to be not only disappointing but one filled with danger. Would he ever have what was considered a normal Christmas? Fighting a war and being angry with your friends was a rotten way to spend a Christmas he'd had high hopes for.

At least during their stay on this colony, he and Heero had finally gotten back to where they both felt comfortable with each other again. Heero had been kind and supportive, like he had been during the war when painful memories from his past resurfaced. Some of those memories had come back when he'd viewed a local telecast showing a nun, who just happened to be his very first teacher, receiving a reward for her years of service to the children of L-2 and the community. The words she spoke after receiving the award had dredged up precious memories of his friend, a brother of the slums who had saved him from many things including starvation and certain death. Those memories succeeded in bringing him to the point of grieving for Solo all over again, filling him with regret, longing for his deceased friend, and a good dose of survivor's guilt. Words could never express how much it meant to him that Heero held him in a comforting embrace that night, and reassured him he wasn't alone during those dark hours filled with sad memories. 

Then the Barton Coup began, and he was brought to the painful awareness of how little faith his friends had in him. Oh, he understood Heero and Trowa's motives for leaving him behind, but still, it hurt.

His mind wandered back to the time well over a week ago when he'd spent time with his four friends in Heero's hospital room. Duo knew he had purposely remained distant, even cold to those two particular friends and that they were more than aware of it. He had congratulated himself at the time for showing some restraint in not verbally ripping into either of Heero or Trowa for not trusting him. Granted, they had both tried to make overtures at reconciling the growing breach between them, but he just wasn't ready to deal with it then, or them for that matter. The whole reason for his anger was still too fresh in his heart and mind to let it go easily. Maybe after some time passed he could bring himself to forgive them.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize how much time was passing as he watched, without really noticing, the passing urban colonyscape until the taxi came to a stop in front of a tidy looking metal building with large glass windows comprising front of the business with the name Schweibeker's Solutions printed neatly in blue against a white background on a sign that hung over the front roof line. Duo pondered the sign for a moment. He seemed to recall it having a different name when he'd been here a few weeks ago, but he remembered Hilde saying her uncle's new partner, Ray Andrews, had suggested a name change that was more suitable to their business and her uncle had agreed. Letting that thought go, he studied the neat and well cared for building. This was going to be the place where he spent most of his waking hours, and Duo felt both excited at the prospect as well as nervous.

Leaning forward, he slipped twenty five credits over the back of the front seat and into the outstretched hand of the driver who was rudely rolling his eyes at his customer's slowness. With the money clutched firmly in his hand, the man popped the car's trunk once again. 

Getting out, Duo went to the back of the vehicle and with some effort, hoisted the large, heavy suitcase out and set it on the curb, then slammed the trunk door down, signaling to the driver that he was finished. Without further ado, the car sped off, leaving the former Deathscythe pilot standing alone at six thirty in the morning in the middle of a business park that appeared to be deserted. Observing the building in front of him once again, Duo noticed the front door had a closed sign showing through the glass, stating that the business would re-open at eight a.m. Pulling his suitcase over to rest against the wall, Duo set it down and then sat on it with the intent of waiting there until someone showed up.

A few minutes before seven, two men dressed in dark slacks and tie-less dress shirts approached him, each carrying a large insulated cup of steaming coffee bearing the logo of a popular coffee brewing chain. Duo rose from his makeshift chair and faced them as they drew closer. Both men stopped about two feet in front of him with big matching grins on their faces showing that they knew exactly who it was that waiting for them.

Hilde's uncle, whom he'd met just a few weeks ago, was a dark haired man of medium height with white hair beginning to sprout from the front of his hairline near his temple. He was the first to speak. "That's what I like to see," he beamed at the shorter young man standing before him, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he smiled. "The early bird who catches the worm."

Duo looked quizzically at him. 

"Showing up at work well before the other employees are due is quite impressive," Mr. Schweibeker teased, looking pleased. "Keep this up Mr. Maxwell and you'll do very well here," he added. He then turned to address the neatly bearded man next to him. "Ray Andrews, let me introduce to you Mr. Duo Maxwell."

The man, which Duo quickly evaluated and estimated to be in his mid forties, had mousy brown hair, a slightly darker beard and moustache and an honest looking face, offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maxwell. Hans has told me all about you and I can honestly say that I very much look forward to working with you."

Duo took the man's hand and they exchanged a firm handshake. His eyes then turned questioningly to his new boss.

"Ray is the shop's manager and my new partner," Mr Schweibeker explained. "He heads several departments including yours, and you'll work directly under him. Ray will explain your duties and our shared vision as to where we want to take this business in the future." A look of hopeful anticipation seemed to seep out of Hilde's uncle at the prospect of expanding his business.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Andrews. And please, call me Duo," the teenager replied to the other man, a worried look lurking in his eyes. "May I ask what exactly have you've been told about me?"

Ray Andrews blushed slightly, looking a bit nervous as he glanced at the owner of the business in front of them. Mr. Schweibeker quickly came to his partner's rescue. "He knows who you are, Duo, or who you were," he said, then went on to explain. "I thought that, as your boss, it was important for Ray to know something about your background. Hilde is bound to come around now and then, and your close connection with her will be questioned by our curious co-workers. Everyone on the colony knows she had contact with the Deathscythe gundam pilot, that she was tangled up in the war because of him; she's sort of a local hero here," the girl's uncle said with a look of pride. 

After a brief moment, his smile faded and facial features sobered. "Quite a few people remember you from when you hid yourself here, Duo. There are bound to be some who recognize you and, though most people here supported your cause and cheered your victories, there are some, very few mind you, that didn't, and there's always a potential for trouble once your presence here becomes public knowledge. I thought Ray should know and be prepared for any possible disturbance before it happens and I'm sorry if that decision upsets you. As a valued employee, we will do all we can to protect you from any harm."

The two men watched the handsome teenager as he stood impassive and thoughtful with a look in his eyes that belied his youth and innocent appearance. After a moment, he shook his head and sighed. "No, it's alright. I guess it's to be expected that I won't be able to keep the anonymity I enjoyed on Earth and L-4, especially since I lived here before and shortly during the war while hiding Deathscythe within the colony where everyone could see him. When I was here a couple of weeks ago with my friend, I was recognized easily enough. You were right to warn Mr. Andrews."

"Ray, just call me Ray," the bearded man said with a growing, genuine smile that clearly demonstrated that he approved of their newest employee. 

Mr. Schweibeker glanced aside and noticed the suitcase resting against the side of the building. "Take the overnight flight?" he guessed.

"Yeah."

Digging into his shirt pocket, the owner of the business removed a security card from it as he stood in front of the door and promptly slid it into the electronic lock. A click and green light on the lock box signaled the door was now open. "Tell you what," Hans said as he pulled the door open and allowed the other two to enter the dark reception area before him. "Let us take you to your new office, show you around a bit, then I'll give you the keys and address to your new residence. You can come back tomorrow morning once you've unpacked and have had a chance to rest up."

"Sounds good," Duo replied, lugging the large suitcase into the office and set it against yet another wall.

"Is that all you have with you?" Ray asked, staring at the one suitcase and duffle bag now resting beside it.

"For now," Duo answered. "My friend Quatre will be sending my other stuff in a day or two."

"Quatre!" The manager asked with a stunned look on his face. "Do you mean THE Quatre Winner from L-4?"

Duo blushed; he was usually more circumspect about mentioning his rich and famous friend's name. He would have to be more careful in the future. "Ah... yeah. He's a friend of mine."

Both men now wore twin expressions, which was a combination of both shock and awe.

"How did a kid from L-2, even a gundam pilot, get to know the richest kid in the colonies?" Ray asked, still a bit overwhelmed and hugely impressed by the idea.

"Well, I...ah..." Duo stammered a bit before he could think of a good explanation. "I met him during the war," he answered, seeing even more questions lurking in the men's minds. "I hid out in private boarding schools and on other colonies. Quatre and I met early on and he became one of my supporters." It wasn't an out and out lie, he told himself. It was the truth; just a bit misleading in order to protect Quatre's identity as a fellow gundam pilot from being discovered.

The men began to nod their heads in understanding and Duo hoped that he'd said enough, stretched just enough of the truth to have their other, unasked questions taken care of. He really didn't feel comfortable telling anyone stories about himself or the other pilots. They'd tried too hard to keep their identities from the press and public, and he didn't want to spoil their efforts.

"Wow," Hans said with a growing smile on his face. "Now I can actually say I know not only a gundam pilot, but someone who knows a Winner."

"I'd appreciate it if you kept both facts under wraps," Duo requested with a slight frown. "Not everyone on L-4 was a supporter of the gundams either, and knowledge that a member of the Winner family supported them could endanger my friend's life."

"Got it." Hans agreed soberly, and Ray nodded his head that he too would keep quiet. "But you'll find things different here, Duo." Hans continued. "Almost all the L-2 population was behind the gundams during the war. We suffered more than any other colony I've ever seen, and things have greatly improved here since then. You, son, are a colony hero. The people living here associate our better economic situation with you, because you fought to bring change and peace to us."

Duo felt embarrassed at the praise the man was giving him. For some reason, he always felt uncomfortable when others saw his worth as something positive, especially when he sometimes he couldn't see it in himself. Nervously scratching the back of his head, he answered. "But I'm still just Duo Maxwell, a kid from the slums of L-2. I might have done something unusual and it may seem heroic, but I'm still an L-2er. I'd appreciate it if you'd treat me just like anyone else despite what you know about me."

"You're not just any kid from L-2, Duo," Ray countered, looking seriously into the boy's eyes. "You're the down on his luck street kid who fought a war in a gundam. You helped save the Earth from being destroyed, and you've just returned from there, having taken up your gundam again to dispose of a mad man wanting to control the destiny of every citizen of Earth and the colonies. From what you've told me of your skills with computers and fixing almost anything mechanical, you're far from the normal seventeen year old. But..." he raised his hand to forestall Duo from protesting his well-deserved praise. "Now having met you, I can see you are a real person, one who is young and needs a job, a home, respect, along with purpose and some fun. In that respect, you are just like the rest of us, and we'll try to remember that every time you impress us."

"Or disappoint you," Duo added, hating it when people put him on some kind of some proverbial pedestal to be idolized.

"We all make mistakes, Duo," Hans said with an understanding smile. "And you will too. Just don't be offended if we need to correct you in order for you to learn, alright?"

"Deal." The braided boy smiled.

"Come on," Hans smiled and pointed down a hallway to the back of the building. "Let me show you to your office."

The hour before the employees began to show up went by quickly. Duo liked his office. It wasn't too small nor too large and included a good sized desk, comfortable chair and file cabinets. It also had a window that faced a small side garden where the employees generally took their lunch and relaxed on the furniture provided for them.

He was impressed with the neatness and organization of the warehouse and was told the scrap yard was actually located several blocks away. After meeting the other ten employees that helped Schweibeker's Solutions run smoothly, Hans handed Duo an envelope containing the address to the small house that was rented for him, along with the keys, and sent him on his way to settle in.

A taxi was hailed and before he knew it, Duo was standing in front of a small, one storey, white painted house that was surrounded by a small fenced yard that was well groomed. He liked the look and feel of the place he would call his home, and pulling his large suitcase after him, he went to the front step, put the key in the lock and opened it.

Once inside, he found the interior of the house to be just as appealing as the outside. It was simple and, to his surprise, furnished. The furnishings looked similar to Hilde's old place, and he suspected she most likely had a hand in this. In the living room there sat an over-stuffed couch and an arm chair, both done in a brown fabric that resembled suede and rested on a light colored hardwood floors. A cherry wood coffee table and an end table with a brass lamp on top were the only other pieces of furniture other than an empty TV stand. He guessed he was supposed to supply that form of entertainment himself. 

Beyond the comfortable living room was a breakfast bar that separated that space from the kitchen. He walked into it and opened up the mid-sized, white refrigerator. To his delight and surprise it was filled with food including milk, cheese, fruits, vegetables, cans of soda and juice and, tucked way in the back, he found a six pack of beer. He smiled, remembering he and Hilde splitting one of those when he was having a bad day during his stay on L-2. This was her own personal house warming gift to him. 

He shut the refrigerator door and opened the side freezer door. Frozen pizza and TV dinners filled it along with packages of vegetables, French fries, concentrated juice and several cartons of mouth watering ice cream that filled the rest of the space.

Too tired to entertain the idea of eating, Duo went to the bedroom to see a dresser and a queen size bed all made up. He owed Hilde big time, he decided with a wide yawn. Sitting down, he took off his black boots, his jeans and long sleeved shirt and lay on top of the firm mattress. Within moments, he was sound asleep.

The next morning Duo rose early, fixed himself a breakfast consisting of cereal, milk and toast before locking the front door behind himself and going to work. His house was within walking distance of the office and it took him less than ten minutes at a brisk walk to reach it. Ray was waiting for him and, as promised, oversaw his training as he began to learn the business and his duties as a creative consultant. There was a lot to take in and that night, as well as the next couple of nights following, Duo found himself falling onto his bed exhausted.

One week passed before the rest of his belongings, including his box of kitchen gifts from his well-known cooking tutor, Mr. Bruce Wainwright, packed in eight large boxes, arrived from L-4. He spent his first day off of work organizing his closet space and putting things away. He finally got around to emptying his duffle bag, or rather the things he hadn't gotten out already, and began to put them away in the bathroom. His hand settled on the bottle of pills on the bottom of the bag. He stared at them with a startled look on his face; he hadn't taken them all week, and a smile slowly rose on his lips. 'See, I am better.' He silently congratulated himself. "I don't need the stinking pills anymore!" He said out loud. Without a second thought he dropped the container into the trash receptacle, then turned to go into the living room to set up his computer and vid phone. 

Opening up his e-mail address, he saw that he had quite a few messages waiting for him from all of his friends, and a feeling of warmth filled him and a smile came to his lips. He opened the three Quatre had sent him, then quickly e-mailed him back reassuring him he was fine, just very busy with his new job and settling in. Quatre had asked him if he'd been taking his medicine, and with a slight twinge of guilt, he answered that he had. In his mind he finished that statement by rationalizing that he had taken them, that is from L-4 to L-2. Quatre hadn't asked him if he'd swallowed any pills, so he really hadn't lied, had he?

Next came Trowa's message, which was short, as was typical for the quiet and at times painfully shy circus performer. He expressed concern over the obvious breach between them, and apologized for thinking to leave Duo behind in the cell on the colony they'd saved from crashing into Earth. He explained, in very few words, that he was just trying to protect his friend and didn't mean to insult him. 

Duo sat back in his chair to contemplate Trowa's message. Quatre had obviously spoken to his friend, thus Trowa's apology.

Coming to a decision, he hit the reply button and typed in return that he wished his friends had more trust in him, and accepted the apology. His reply was three sentences long, several lines shorter than Trowa's sparse message. Satisfied, he pushed 'send' and went on to Wufei's message.

Wufei's note was longer, telling Duo of his move to the Preventers and how 

he hoped to make a difference in his new job. He thanked his friend for showing up after the last battle and taking him to see Heero. He reported that things were better now between the two former comrades and they understood each other just a bit more than before, which was good, as they would be working together from time to time. He expressed a sincere desire to hear about Duo's new job and home.

A smile came to Duo's face. He was glad Wufei was doing well. He decided to put off replying to his letter until later as it would take much longer than he wanted to spend on it at the moment.

Howard's message came next, congratulating him for landing an honest job and demanding the "kid" keep in touch. He bypassed replying because his answer, like the one to Wufei, would take much more time.

Hilde was now traveling with the circus and, after a brief demand by her to know what was going on in his life, she went on and on about Trowa, how strong, handsome and kind he was. So far, Trowa had only shown her the same kindness he'd shown everyone else, but Hilde wasn't discouraged. She was determined to become something more to the tall and slender former pilot of Heavyarms. Duo shook his head, knowing how stubborn and tenacious the girl really was. He knew he should probably warn Trowa about her plans for him, but decided his friend was a big boy and very astute. He should be able to handle a little sprite of a girl, even if she was hell bent on getting what she wanted.

The last unopened file was from Heero and Duo hesitated before clicking the cursor on it to open the message. His feelings were definitely mixed when it came to his best friend. He still felt deeply hurt at how Heero had treated him in the last battle. His closest friend had knocked him out and left him behind, going on to risk his life several times in order to pull off the stupid perfect soldier act. Duo had been livid when he'd learned of the stunt Heero had pulled after he left him with Trowa, leaping from one ship to another in the deep of space in order to get to Wing. If he had been there, they could have easily connected with the incoming ship and Heero's life would have been at less of a risk. It was frightening how close to death Heero had been. Any little mistake would have left him floating alone in space, facing his death alone. 

His subsequent battle with Wufei, where he made himself vulnerable to the Shenlong Pilot's anger and confusion and allowed himself to be defeated to prove a point, left Wing Zero plummeting through the atmosphere and into the ocean in an effort to wake Wufei up from his delusional ideas that had been caused by brainwashing. It always hurt Duo to know that Heero held his life so cheap, even though he had people who loved and cared about him, people who would be lost without him. 

After looking up from the battle ground and seeing Wing Zero poised above the sunken palace holding Deikum, his troops, Mariemaia and Relena, firing his weapons as the opposing forces fired back while his gundam's systems overloaded, Duo realized that his best friend didn't care whether he lived or died. Heero was focused on the end result, no matter that the consequences could mean his death and knowing what his dying would mean to him and the others, the perfect soldier in him still courted it. That realization felt like a hand had mysteriously reached into his chest and painfully constricted his heart. He had lost everyone who had ever meant something to him and he knew he was about to see the same thing happen again. Watching Heero perform his duties with such blind devotion, without a thought of the repercussions to anyone else, brought Duo to the conclusion that if his friend managed to survive this battle, that he needed to separate himself from Heero, emotionally and physically. Heero's path of self-destruction would eventually hurt him once again by losing someone so close to him. It was a sense of self preservation that led him to remain distant and unemotionally attached to his best friend. If he separated himself from Heero, maybe he wouldn't hurt so much the next time he tried to kill himself in the name of duty, in the name of peace.

After that short time of reflection and understanding of his motives, Duo opened the link and read the message Heero had typed for him.

  
  


Duo, I have been informed that you are still angry with me. Is that why you were so distant before you left Earth? Quatre said I hurt your feelings with my actions during our foray into the colony where we met up with Trowa. The actions I took were ones I felt necessary. I only did what I had to and I hope you understand. Heero.

  
  


That was it. Like Trowa, Heero's message was concise and to the point. He closed the window, not knowing what to say in reply. Heero hadn't really apologized for his lack of faith in him, his leaving him with the enemy. He was still hurt by what he deemed as Heero's lack of trust in him and his abilities, enough so that he didn't want to let him off the hook too easily, though it seemed childish to hold onto a grudge for too long. He just felt the need to maintain some distance emotionally in order to keep from feeling hurt and abandoned by someone who had been his closest friend.

Finding himself becoming more morose as he pondered his failing friendship, he turned off his computer and stood from the chair at his desk. The house was pretty much in order and he still had the rest of the afternoon and evening to fill. The emptiness and quiet suddenly seemed to surround and close in around him. The only people he considered his friends were either off colony or at home with their wives and families and he was reluctant to disturb them just so he could have some company.

Picking up his house keys and wallet, he turned off his stereo and locked up the house. He was going out to look for a little diversion from the long empty hours ahead that offered only the disquieting feeling of loneliness that he'd always had trouble coping with.

As he strolled down the streets of Cherry Hill, the subdivision of L-2 where he currently lived, he made his way towards the opposite direction from where he worked, towards the shopping district where he walked without purpose looking with casual interest into store windows and studied the people that comprised this part of the colony. When he was a poverty ridden kid living on the streets of the largest city in the colony, he never knew places like Cherry Hill even existed. The homes and buildings weren't fancy or out of the ordinary, but they were neat and tidy and everything seemed so orderly. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as the shadowed thought came to him that maybe it hadn't been as nice back then as it appeared now. Everything on the colony was slowly being built up now that interplanetary trade brought new jobs and encouraged growth and development. The colony, once labeled the poorest of the poor, now seemed to be flourishing when before, tariffs and government blockades had prevented any such economic stimuli from helping the rapidly dilapidating colony in order to keep a rebellious, vocal and stubborn people put down. 

A crooked grin grew on Duo's face as he decided that the adjectives once used to describe his colony were also an apt description of himself. Those traits, being that of a loud rebel with a huge stubborn streak, not only kept him and many others alive on the streets of dire poverty, but had also made him the perfect candidate for piloting Deathscythe. G had grudgingly admitted to him that he'd admired his spunk and his ability to overcome almost everything including being an orphan, surviving near starvation, the plague, as well as the death of everyone he ever cared about. He could still hear G's voice saying, "Listen kid, if you can survive all the shit you've managed to come out of, then you're strong willed enough to carry out the vengeance for an entire colony." The old man had said that to him after a hard night of exhaustive training when he questioned his ability to come through for the old geezer.

Having been lost in his train of thought and past memories, Duo didn't notice that he'd drifted off the main street as he strolled along and suddenly found himself in an area of Cherry Hill he hadn't realized was there before. The buildings on the street he found himself on were less than respectable compared to the rest of the suburb, for lined on both sides of the street were bars, strip clubs, along with adult book and video stores. He wrinkled his nose with distaste. Memories of similar streets from his childhood brought anything but pleasant memories to his mind.

He promptly turned on his heel with the intent of leaving this district as quickly as possible when he smacked into a solid object and bounced back from off of it. Catching his balance before he fell, he looked up to face whomever he'd encountered, his body instinctively prepared for fight or flight.

"Whoa, sorry there kid." An older man in his mid fifties chuckled in good humor as his hand reached out to steady the youngster in front of him. However, the man's eyes widened and his hand stilled inches from the boy's shoulder as he recognized just who it was that he'd bumped into.

Duo looked up into the portly man's friendly face, seeing the humor in his eyes suddenly turn to shock. He knew he'd been recognized.

"Sorry old man," Duo murmured and tried to duck around the man only to find his escape blocked on either side by two other men about the same age as their portly friend.

"You're him, aren't you?" The man in the middle asked with a trace of awe in his voice. 

Duo quickly searched the man's face for any anger or evil intent towards him, but the older guy's slightly wrinkled face surrounded by graying brown hair was open and held no trace of anger or malice.

"I don't think we've met," Duo answered, trying to be evasive.

"The gundam pilot, the kid that flew the big black one, you're him, aren't you? I worked near the scrap yard where you hid your machine during the first war and I saw you." The man stated, then looked the boy up and down. "Looks like you've grown...a little." The twinkle in the man's eyes was proof of his teasing. It was true, the former Deathscythe had grown since the war, but only a couple of scant inches. He now stood at five foot five inches tall and praying nightly that he wasn't done growing yet.

Duo couldn't help but give the man a small grin at his teasing jibe. "Yeah, well I understand that most runts from L-2, having had a lack of proper nutrition growing up, are a bit challenged in the height department. Didn't seem to be a problem for you though." His eyes settled on the man's bulging belly. He'd meant the comment to be light and teasing in return, but the man and his companions' smiles faltered as if they felt guilty.

"Well, we came here just after the first war started," the man was quick to reply. "We saw the conditions and, shit kid, it's a miracle you survived. We just wanted to say thank you, you know, for fighting the good fight," the man said sticking his hand out and automatically, without thinking, Duo took it in his own, causing the man smile broadly. "My name is Jeb, and these jokers here are Griff," he pointed to the tall bald man to his right, "and Zack." The man to his left was a bit shorter and had a wicked sweep-over of thin hair that was attempting to cover what looked to be a very bald crown. He leaned forward as if to speak confidentially to the shorter teenager. "But you can call them Curly and Sweeps."

Duo got the joke and laughed out loud. "And what do they call you, Jeb?" he asked.

"Slim," Griff answered with a loud bark of laughter, pointing at Jeb's abundant middle. 

The four of them shared a good laugh and as they calmed, Jeb looked once again at the boy. "Tell you what, we'd like to buy you a drink, our way of thanking you man to man."

"Well, I'm not exactly legal," Duo replied with a crooked grin. "I'd probably get kicked out if I tried order a drink."

Griff shook his bald head. "You're old enough to fight a war but not share a drink with a couple of grateful guys?" he asked in mock disbelief. "Well, maybe somewhere else, but that doesn't hold here in Cherry Hill."

"We know a couple of decent places," Zack piped in. "If you'd allow us to, we'd like to thank you properly."

Duo smiled, liking these three jokesters who appeared harmless and seeing a way to spend the evening other than being alone and wallowing in self pity, which was something he was loath to do. "Sure," he smiled back warmly. "If you can manage to get me in somewhere, I'd be happy to accept a drink from you."

Jeb put a friendly arm around Duo's shoulders and with his friends flanking them, he led the braided teen down the street and to a bar simply dubbed Hal's.

  
  


An incessant, irritating noise slowly penetrated sleep, and he groaned at the pain in his head, the fuzzy, bad taste in his mouth and the wet spot on his pillow where he'd obviously drooled.

The noise sounded again and he vaguely recognized it as the vid phone in the living room. Slowly easing himself to the edge of the bed, he knew instantly that he would be visiting the bathroom before he could venture to the living room.

Lowering his feet to the carpeted floor, he eased himself up, and paused as the room waltzed around him. "Overdid it a bit," he murmured to himself, vaguely remembering the evening before. Suddenly, the lurching of his stomach caused him to break into a run for the bathroom adjacent to his room where he paid humble homage to the porcelain throne. Once finished, he struggled to his feet and grabbed hold of the sink, turning on the cold water faucet and scooping several handfuls of tap water into his cupped hand and rinsed out his mouth before swallowing several more handfuls to sate his thirst.

Looking up into the mirror, he winced at his reflection; he looked terrible. His hair was all over the place, out of its traditional braid, tangled and in total disarray. His eyes were bloodshot and dark ringed; a stark contrast to his pale skin. He pointed his finger at the pathetic figure in the mirror. "No more alcohol for you, mister," he told himself firmly. But in the back of his mind, he knew he'd just had the best night sleep he'd had since the last battle. 

He hadn't wanted to worry Quatre, but some of his nightmares from during the war had returned, probably instigated from having so recently gone into battle again. He'd woken up each night since the coup was put down feeling anxious or frightened from the images his subconscious produced for him in the way of dreams. They'd gotten progressively worse after leaving L-4 and living alone. 

He suddenly felt very alone and missing his friends now more than ever before. During the war, when he'd wake with a shout or his heart racing frantically from a grizzly nightmare, Heero would hold him, making him feel safe and protected. Sometimes his friend held him when he felt alone or overwhelmed by the war or from the need to keep running in order to stay alive. At times, when he and Heero were separated, Quatre sometimes filled the need to be held when his so called 'space heart' woke him in the middle of the night, telling him of Duo's distress. His blond friend would quietly enter his room, knowing he was awake, and just climb onto his bed and gather him in his arms before going back to sleep. He was always grateful that Quatre never delved into the nightmares nor the cause of them while the room was dark and more disturbing dreams were lurking in the corners. His friend had always waited until the next day, when the colony's lights were bright before he inquired about the nightmare. 

The vid phone rang again, and leaning over the sink, he splashed a handful of cold water onto his face, dried it off with the hand towel and made his way from the bathroom through his bedroom and into the brighter living room. With eyes squinting to keep the brightness from increasing the pain already throbbing his entire head, he reached the desk and blindly hit the on button.

"By Allah, Duo. What's happened to you?" Quatre questioned with alarm in seeing the rumpled and unhealthy looking state of his friend.

"Shhh!" Duo pleaded, with one hand held up to stop his friend from speaking. "Hangover," he explained his condition with a single word.

Silence reigned as Duo sat slowly in the chair in front of his desk and his friend tried to figure out what to say. Quatre beat him to it. "Why did you get drunk, Duo? Was it a party? Who gave you alcohol?"

"Didn't mean to," he replied in a half groan while putting his elbow on the desk and raising his hand to rest his aching head heavily upon it. "Just met some nice old guys who wanted to say thanks to the pilot of Deathscythe."

"They know who you are?" Quatre gasped, suddenly fearful for his friend's safety.

"Yeah, one of them recognized me from when I stayed here during the war. But it's cool," he reassured the alarmed boy on the other end of the line. "People here are better off than before and somehow the poor schmucks think I did it single handedly. I'm like some kind of fricken hero." 

"You've got to be careful, Duo. Getting drunk will make it hard to protect yourself if someone with a mind for vengeance comes after you."

"I know, you're right," Duo replied, closing his eyes to ease the pain behind them. "I don't think I want to see a drink for a very long time."

"Speaking of Heero?" Quatre began with a pointed look at his friend.

"We were?" Duo asked, looking confused.

"Why haven't you written him? You wrote back to Trowa, and I, but not Heero. He's concerned."

"Shit, Quatre, you got a little pen pal club going? Are you practicing at being the local advice giver? I never said you could go to them and try to make things better between us."

"Duo," Quatre's voice sounded like a scold.

"I'm not up to this right now, Quat. Can you lecture me later?"

The blond paused for a moment before speaking further. "Don't burn the bridges of friendship, Duo. Heero has been reaching out, trying to mend things between you. Don't let his inability to express his feeling kill your relationship with each other. Don't let this go too long or you might lose the best friend you ever had."

Duo rubbed his eyes with the flat of his palms. "You aren't too shabby of a friend either, Quatre." he said. "Who says you aren't a better friend to me than Heero was?"

"I'm flattered, Duo. But don't change the subject. You and Heero were like brothers during the war, what's happened?"

"A lack of trust, absence, and a change of priorities, all on his part," the braided young man answered sullenly.

"You live far apart, Duo. Surely you didn't think things wouldn't change."

Duo's eyes narrowed and his hands gripped the edge of the desk as he replied. "He promised, Quatre. He said he'd be here for me after the war, that we would both see that the other wasn't left alone. Where am I Quatre? Alone, that's where!"

The blonde's eyes widened at the unexpected accusation coming from his friend. "Duo, you chose to come with me after we got out of school. You could have gone with Heero, he wanted you to. And the only reason you find yourself alone now is because you decided you needed to do this. I didn't want you to leave L-4 any more than Heero wanted you to leave Earth. You made the choice in both cases and we both respected your decision."

"Yeah? If I had chosen to stay with him on Earth, Heero would have just ignored me while he traipsed after Relena. I would still have been alone."

"What did you expect Heero to do, Duo? Live his life babysitting you?" Though he was trying to be patient, Quatre found himself irritated and it showed in the rising of his voice. "You chose to come home with me, which I think was the right decision, and Heero found something to do with his life to make himself feel useful. He seems happy going to school and protecting Relena. Tell me, what else to you think he should be doing?"

Duo lowered his head into his hands, wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut. "I don't know Quatre," he moaned. "All I know is that it hurts that he's not my friend any more. I miss him, Quatre, and I don't think things will ever be the same between us. He's become a stranger. I thought while we were here on L-2 during Christmas that we still had that closeness, that bond that we shared as friends during the war, but when we had to fight again I learned the hard way that he didn't trust me and proved it by leaving me behind to be detained by Barton's people while he went off to fight alone. I don't think he'll ever understand how much his lack of faith in me hurt. How much his tendency to risk his life, regardless of what it would mean to us, hurts like that blow he gave me in the gut. I just can't take that anymore. I've lost too much already."

"I know Duo, but I still think you should forgive him." Quatre said in a softer voice, his face sad with an understanding of Duo's pain. "You'll feel better and have your friend back. Heero does want to be your friend again, Duo, and you're the only one keeping that from happening."

Quatre watched the view screen as Duo sat still and unmoving after his comments. After a moment he added. "Please, just think about it. For me? Just write to him and tell him you forgive his blunder, explain to him why you're so hurt so he'll understand and learn from it. You'll both feel better for it, I promise."

"It's not like he apologized or anything for doing what he did, but I'll try," Duo whispered, knowing it would appease his friend. All he truly wanted at the moment was to disconnect the line and go throw up again. "I'll write him, maybe tonight, but I really don't see anything changing."

"He cares, Duo. Give him a chance."

"I don't feel so good Quatre. I'll talk to you later, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Duo disconnected the line and put his hands over his mouth as he quickly ran to the kitchen sink when he decided the bathroom was just too far away to reach in time.

  
  


Duo had been sitting at his computer for over an hour that same evening. He'd written to Wufei, Howard and Hilde before tackling the uncomfortable job of replying to Heero's message. It took several drafts and after deleting all of them he finally came up with a half decent reply. Duo re-read the letter he'd promised Quatre that he'd write to Heero. His first draft had sounded too damn angry. He'd deleted it and began again. The second sounded whiney and needy and was also erased. The third letter said all the right words, but lacked sincerity. Quatre had wanted him to forgive Heero, to make things right between them, but was he just supposed to say the words or really mean them?

"Shit!" he murmured to himself, deleting yet another draft and began again, hoping to get to the point quickly. Putting his fingers on the keyboard, he began typing.

  
  


How can I not be upset Heero, when you obviously no longer have faith in me, in my abilities? Do you know how hard I worked to get your approval during the war? It hurts like hell to know I've lost that.

  
  


I don't know why this is so hard for me to get over. It could be because you haven't realized how you hurt me or apologized. I suppose it's true when they say relationships, even friendships, are based on trust. Since that's no longer the foundation of our friendship, maybe our being friends just isn't on the cards any more.

  
  


I don't know how to get back to where we were Heero, and maybe it's not possible. It think right now it's just best to let go and wish each other well. Yeah, maybe that's best. Be well Heero.

Duo

  
  


It hurt to write the words that made his heart ache, but it seemed right to let Heero know how he felt. Did he really want to end their friendship? Hell no, but what else was there for him to do?

Sending the message, Duo felt his mood darken and he became restless. The quiet of his house closed in on him once again and suddenly, he knew he didn't want to stick around by himself that evening, dwelling on the loss of his best friend and his current state of loneliness. His watch indicated it was ten p.m., a little late to call anyone from work to go out. Shutting off his computer, he picked up his jacket and keys and locked the front door behind him as he turned to walk towards the section of Cherry Hill he'd visited the night before with his three drinking buddies. If he was lucky, he'd find himself a good fight and expel some of the hurt and anger he felt and tire his body out at the same time so that he'd enjoy another night of dreamless slumber. If he couldn't find a good fight, he'd have to get drunk enough to bring on the deep sense of numbness that would hold back the flashbacks and nightmares he'd been having since the last battle. At the moment, he just wanted them to leave him alone for one more night, and somehow tonight, he'd find a way to accomplish it.

TBC


	3. Jump Into The Void

Moving on

By: Dyna Dee

Part 3 - Jump into the Void

Disclaimer: I don't own GW, any of the characters. Money? If only dreams made wishes come true.

Warning: a small bit of language and some angst.

The rough shake of his shoulder brought the sleeping teen to a level of consciousness that allowed him to be able to understand the words being directed to him by a voice he vaguely remembered as someone he was acquainted with.

"Hey kid, go home and sleep it off."

Now he recognized the voice...it was Kern, the bartender at the hole in the wall bar he frequented at least once a week. Raucous laughter erupted around him at some unintelligible joke he couldn't begin to comprehend. His head lay on the sticky wooden table with his arms hanging straight and limp down from his shoulders. The rest of his body was balanced between the chair he sat in and the table where he lay his head. "In a bit," he mumbled, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth.

In truth, Duo Maxwell couldn't move if he wanted to. He certainly didn't want to go to his place and 'sleep it off'. Hell, he'd worked all evening to get to this point, where his mind and body were almost completely numb. In this sorry state of heavy intoxication, he couldn't remember the past and the feelings of loneliness that weighted him down or the nightmares that plagued him when he was sober. Somehow, being drunk held those unwanted occurrences at bay, and the ultimate pay off was that he was in a state of not caring. At the moment, he just didn't give a shit about anything, past, present or future. Not anyone or anything.

With his eyes remaining closed, he smiled crookedly, humored by the fact that part of his face was stuck against the table's surface. He knew he would pay for this indulgence tomorrow; but he felt it was an even trade for the small window of detachment he felt from reality. It was something he craved several times a week. He chose his drinking nights carefully as to not cause his employer any errors in judgment on his part during the working hours, but Hans Schweibeker and Ray Andrews had proved to be much too tolerant and understanding of his behavior. His job was easy enough that he could perform it even with a heavy hangover, which happened much more frequently as time passed since his arrival on L-2. 

He sighed, letting go of any worry or thoughts of guilt associated with his evening activities, his job and employers. After all, he wasn't at work now, and he was pretty damn close to reaching his own version of Nirvana, the dark void of feeling absolutely nothing. 

Even in his semi-conscious state, he knew that he was relatively safe within the confines of this particular bar. He'd greased the palms of the owners of several hand-picked drinking establishments that he frequented in Cherry Hill to watch over him if he got too drunk. It was their job to see that no one with ulterior or unscrupulous motives took advantage of his drunken state. Some of these bars even had a cot in a back room where he could sleep off the alcohol if he couldn't make it home on his own. On such occasions, he always received a lecture from the bar's owner and bartenders when he finally woke up in the morning, hung over and feeling wretched. They all said the same thing each time that happened; that he was wasting his life, killing himself slowly and that he should get some help. He knew they meant well, but he really didn't want to hear it. 

He snorted as the thought came to him that, though they lectured him and urged him to get help, they never refused him a drink or his money, even though he was under age. Their words of warning and caution always sounded sincere, but they rang hollow and fell on deaf ears because their words didn't match their actions.

With these thoughts in his head, the all too familiar feeling of emptiness and loneliness slowly began to ease its way back into his consciousness, causing an increasing ache in his chest. It was a hollow ache that he couldn't keep drowned out for long. He needed another drink.

His hand came up, moving like it was made of lead as it flopped onto the table's surface and began to blindly search for his glass. He heard a voice nearby that didn't seem to fit the environment he'd chosen for the night. He thought, through the alcohol haze that filled his mind, that he recognized it, but it was definitely out of place. Without moving his head or opening his eyes he strained to single out the voice from the others in the barroom.

The voice he sought was deep and evenly modulated. A familiar voice came in that he recognized as Kern and he realized he was answering the other person's questions. The bartender's scratchy voice rose in volume, sounding agitated and defensive. He heard the words of the familiar voice counter, using the words, "authorities..., underage..., irresponsible..., shut down." The words were disjointed, but nonetheless threatening.

'Maybe there'll be a fight,' he thought, and the hope of such an event brought the lopsided smile to his lips once again. He didn't like to start barroom fights, mostly because the person who threw the first punch was the one who ended up paying for any damages. Nope, he just liked to join in an already established fight just for the fun of it. Somehow, in the state of numbness he frequently journeyed to, it always made him feel alive when he got into a fight, to have someone or something to stand up to and move against.

With no small amount of effort, he pushed his arm across the table and reached for the half filled glass of whiskey. If he could just take a swig, finish the glass, he would be ready to come out swinging if the hoped for fight did come about.

A hand was suddenly on top of his, closing over it just as his fingers found and clutched the cool glass of the tumbler, keeping him from lifting it.

"I think that's enough for you," the deep voice sounded from above him. His body reacted immediately to the sound and he involuntarily shivered. He now recognized the threat behind the voice as he placed it with the person who spoke to him. 'I'm in deep shit now,' he said to himself and prayed that he would just fall into a dark abyss before the nightmare standing next to him became a reality.

The glass, still in his hand, was forcefully removed. "Let's go," the voice's owner moved to pull him up from his comfortable drunken position. Duo moaned with a complaint at being disturbed.

"Sorry, but I can't let you take him," Kern's voice said forcefully from somewhere nearby.

A derisive snort sounded in his ear, followed by the question, "You think you can stop me?"

There was a pause and an unusual amount of silence stretched out as Duo felt himself being forcefully lifted from his drunken position. He was dimly aware that his arm was being flung over someone's shoulder and another arm was wrapped securely around his waist to keep him from toppling.

"Look," Kern began again. "I don't know who you are or what your intentions are towards the kid. I do know he's not in a position to defend himself. He doesn't look after himself properly, so when he's here, I do it for him."

"If you cared about him at all," the voice of the person holding him replied in disgust, "you wouldn't let him get to this state."

"If he didn't drink here, he would be somewhere else." Kern replied defensively. "At least here I can make sure he's safe while he loses himself to the bottom of a bottle. The kid obviously needs help, but I'm the last person who can give him the help he needs." The bartender's voice suddenly changed into a pleading tone. "Just tell me you're a friend."

"I am." 

In hearing the familiar voice's reply, Duo suddenly felt a long forgotten sensation spark in his numb heart; hope. Hope for an end to the darkness he'd fallen into . Maybe there was someone out there that cared, who could fill the vacuum of emptiness he felt, the hollowness that threatened to consume him completely.

With that slight feeling of hope and a lot of effort, the teenager forced his eyes to open and he slowly tilted his head so he could see the face of the voice he now fully recognized. "Heero?" He concentrated on focusing his bleary, unfocused eyes on the vague figure holding tightly to him to keep him from falling

"I'm here, Duo," the voice said; his tone comforting. "I'm going to take you home now." Whether from shock at the other's appearance and the fear of what would inevitably follow or the fact that he was just plain drunk, the braided teen and former Gundam pilot slumped heavily against his rescuing friend and murmured, "Thank God," just before he passed out cold.

  
  


The now familiar and wretched feeling of yet another hangover greeted him as he came out of his blessedly dreamless sleep. He knew from past experience that if he moved now, he would vomit all over his bed and carpet; not something he wanted to do. If he could just lay still for ten minutes, he could mentally calm his mind and body so that he could manage to get up and get his coffee. He made a mental note to check the vid screen to see if this was a work day or not because at the moment, he just couldn't remember.

"You're awake," a familiar voice remarked calmly.

Duo flinched with remembrance; it wasn't just a bad dream after all. Cracking open one eye, he looked at the blurry outline of the person he'd feared was in reality standing at the side of his face until his eyes came into focus.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked, his voice sounding funny to his own ears. He dimly realized that he rarely talked in the morning anymore because in reality, there was no one to talk to. He usually didn't carry on a conversation with anyone at work until after lunch as his fellow workers pretty much left him alone until he spoke to them first.

Drawing his eyebrows down in thought, he wondered why that was and when it had begun? He mentally shrugged and let it go, like everything else in his life that was too troubling to think about. It was a nifty little trick that had become invaluable over time.

"I came to see how you're doing," The Japanese teen answered. "And I can see it's a good thing that I did."

Duo could hear the reprimand, or was it disappointment in Heero's voice?

"Well, now you've seen me," his voice sounded dull and lifeless in his own ears. "So you can go back home and leave me alone."

Duo flung his arm over his head, hoping the movement, too fast and too soon, wouldn't make him lose his cookies in front of the perfect soldier.

He then felt a weight settle on the mattress and guessed that Heero had decided to sit on the edge of the bed to watch him.

"What's the matter, Duo? What's going on?" Heero asked, his voice soft and sounding concerned.

Feeling the bile slowly rising up his throat, the miserable young man on the bed swallowed it down and held his silence as he willed himself to stay still.

"I saw Trowa last week," Heero began again after several long moments of silence. "He's doing well at the circus. He told me no one has heard from you in six months, that you haven't even written to Hilde and she's very worried about you." There was a long pause that was obviously meant to draw the hung over teen into explaining himself. When the silence between the two extended, Heero asked another question. "Why?"

It became apparent that Duo wasn't going to answer as he lay perfectly still, his arm flung over his face and lips pursed tightly together.

"I called Quatre," Heero continued in a casual manner. "Did you know Wufei lives on L-4 now? They're both worried about you. I thought you were close to them, Duo, especially Quatre. Why haven't you talked to him?"

The bile seemed to recede a bit. If he could just stay still a few minutes more, he could escape this hell he'd awakened to with a bit of dignity intact. 

"You're trying to self destruct, aren't you?" Heero's question came out sounding more like a statement of fact rather than a question.

"Go home, Heero. You're wasting your time." Duo managed to reply, swallowing with difficulty.

"Did you know that I've been here for three days? It took me a less than an hour to find your work place and from there I followed you home. I've been following you ever since."

Duo had thought he'd felt that old prickle of warning at the back of his neck, telling him he was being watched. But like everything else that had bothered him lately, he let the feeling drift away from his conscious thought.

"You live a pathetic existence," Heero added, disappointment clearly apparent in his voice.

Something in Heero's tone of disapproval hit a chord inside of the former Deathscythe pilot. He shot up, swinging a balled up fist at the dark haired teen's face, and from the angle in which Heero sat, it made it difficult for him to move completely out of the way. To Duo's satisfaction, his knuckles hit the flesh of Heero's jaw.

"Shut the hell up!" he yelled at Heero, who quickly stood from the edge of the bed and glared down at him. Then suddenly all thought and movement stopped for a moment as the bloodshot eyes and pale cheeks bulged. Duo sprang from the bed, clad only in his boxers, and ran to the toilet, promptly emptying his sour stomach.

He stayed slumped against the porcelain seat for several moments, waiting until his stomach stopped emptying itself and the sporadic cramping eased. 

Pulling himself slowly up to the sink, he turned on the water and flushed the vile smelling contents down the toilet then washed his face and thoroughly rinsed out his mouth and brushed his teeth. When he felt marginally better, he pushed his sweat laced hair from out of his eyes and turned to go back to his bedroom.

Heero was sitting on the bed once again, a cup of steaming liquid in his hands. He held it out to Duo like a peace offering. "Coffee?" he asked.

Duo mumbled his half-hearted thanks and took it, knowing he would feel better for drinking it.

He finished the cupful without exchanging words or looking at the intruder. Setting the empty cup down on the bedside table, he turned to go to his dresser and pulled out a pair of black jeans, a green t-shirt and a folded pair of boxers. Without preamble, he went back to the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

His shower lasted a good thirty minutes; then came shaving and brushing out his thigh length hair. It was still damp when he braided it, but he'd be damned if he let Heero see it down. No doubt he'd think he was too weak to braid it properly and advise him to cut it. "When hell freezes over," he mumbled to himself.

Exiting the bathroom, he saw the room was empty and the bed was neatly made. 'Maybe he left,' he thought hopefully, yet walking into his living room he saw Heero was busy in the kitchen.

Quietly, he picked up his coat, which was lying on the chair next to the door, along with his keys and his sunglasses on the table next to it and soundlessly left the house, grateful that the hinges on the front door were well oiled. After placing the sunglasses on to protect his aching eyes and throbbing head from the bright lights above, he began to walk the familiar route that took him to his place of employment.

As he approached the building in which he worked he began to feel more calm. This building, in which he spent most of his time in, and its employees had become a place of acceptance and security for him. He liked his job and the people he worked with. He knew by the expressions on their faces that they were worried about him, but they respected his privacy when he explained he was suffering from a bit of post traumatic stress that resurfaced after the last battle. His fellow workers nodded their heads, honestly trying to understand, and dutifully gave him time and space to work through his troubles. Duo tired to repay them for their kindness by working hard, seeing to it that the part of the business that was given to him to oversee did well. He was good at his job of finding parts for or re-shaping them to fit the customer's need. It was a creative and demanding job, and it was also proving to be a lucrative one as well. The business was thriving, growing and gaining a good reputation. His bosses appreciated his part in that accomplishment and rewarded him with an increase in salary and regular bonuses.

At times, Duo felt badly for distancing himself emotionally from such nice, normal people, especially over the last six months. They were what he considered normal, and they all had lives to live, a purpose for continuing. Those were things he found himself to be lacking and it made him feel like an outsider and incompatible when he was around them too much.

He didn't turn around to answer the prickling at the back of his neck as he approached the office. He knew without looking back that Heero was following behind him.

He opened the door that was the business entrance and reception area. Malia, the receptionist/secretary, sat behind the semi-circle desk. She was in her mid twenties and had her blond hair pulled up into a twist making her small green eyes seem much larger than they actually were behind the thick, round glasses she wore.

"Mr. Maxwell?" She looked up surprised at his entrance. "It's Saturday. What are you doing in here today?"

Duo thought he masked his surprise well as he replied. "I need to check next week's schedule and appointments."

She gave him a knowing glance. "Coffee?" she asked sympathetically. He cringed seeing she understood his present condition. How did everyone get to be so knowledgeable about my off work activities? Sure he still felt the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed last night and his head was pounding like a drum, but he was sure he walked and talked without a hint of how he really felt.

"I'll get it," he replied and motioned for her to stay in her seat as he proceeded down the hall to the employee's lounge. "If anyone comes in, I'm unavailable. Alright?"

"Yes, Mr. Maxwell," the young woman answered, then turned and watched him go, concerned for the despondent teenager as he walked down the hallway to the lounge. Moments later, she heard the door to his room shut and the lock engage.

Shaking her head with pity for the brilliant but troubled teenager who was going through such a hard time, she turned back to the papers in front of her waiting to be filed. 

It was only when she shifted her eyes that she caught sight of a person standing in front of her desk. "Oh!" She jumped, startled at the young man's silent presence that had completely gone unnoticed until that moment. "You startled me," she gasped with a smile at feeling foolish. She took in the appearance of the dark haired young man, smiling ever so slightly at her in return. He had perfect olive skin and the most intense blue eyes that looked at her intently. She felt her stomach clench as she noted he was unusually handsome, dressed in jeans and a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck.

"Can I help you?" she asked, turning her chair forward and adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"Duo Maxwell," the young man's deep rich voice requested.

"He's unavailable at the moment. I could give him a message when he comes out, if you'd like to leave one," she offered, smiling coquettishly at him.

Putting an elbow on the high counter top and leaning over slightly, the dark haired teen grinned knowingly at her, then suddenly sobered as he inquired further. "I'm a friend of his and I'm concerned about his welfare. Do you know him very well?"

The receptionist blinked her eyes several times at the news. "A friend?"

The young man nodded in reply.

"I didn't know he had any friends other than Hilde and some of the guys here at work."

"He has quite a few, actually," the Japanese boy declared with a frown. "But he's withdrawn from us and, from observing him for a couple of days, I've concluded that he seems to be having a hard time of it right now."

The young woman looked down the hall, as if to make sure the person they were speaking of wasn't coming back. Then turning back and leaning forward, she replied to the other's concern in a hushed tone of voice. "Mr. Andrews, our boss, told us Mr. Maxwell was in the war, a gundam pilot, and that he's suffering from some sort of post traumatic stress disorder. We were told to help him in any way we could but not to intrude on his privacy. It really is sad to see such a good looking guy so alone," she continued looking sorrowful. "Several of the girls working here are interested in him, but he doesn't give them any encouragement. Oh, he's nice enough, once he starts talking, but we've realized that's about all he's going to give."

"Does he often come into work like he did this morning?" Heero asked, hoping the young woman would know what he was referring to.

"It's become more frequent in the last couple of months," she answered, her voice still low. "And then there are days when he doesn't come in at all," she suddenly looked guilty for disclosing such a fact. "Mr. Andrews says we have to be patient. He won't fire him because of his sacrifice for the colonies and says it's the least that we can do for him. He's also quite brilliant in his job, when he's here to perform it."

Heero nodded, grateful his friend had found a group of people willing to look after him and make concessions for his poor behavior; but it had to stop. None of this was doing Duo any good. The well intentioned workers of Schweibeker's Solutions were only enabling him further.

For the next twenty minutes he pumped the receptionist for any and all information she had on Duo. Then picking up a magazine from the coffee table, he took a seat on one of the several chairs in the foyer and prepared to wait his friend out.

  
  


After a cup of coffee and four aspirin, the former Deathscythe pilot put his head on his desk and promptly fell back to sleep. Three hours later, a knock at the door roused him. 

"Mr. Maxwell? I have your lunch," Malia called through the door.

Wiping the drool from off his face, Duo rose and went to the door. He was feeling better now and the turkey sandwich the deli always sent over would help fill one of the hollow feelings inside him.

Unlocking the door, he pulled it open. Surprise registered on his face when he came face to face with none other than Heero Yuy, holding the familiar deli bag.

He tried to slam the door, but he'd foolishly forgotten that no one ever successfully managed to achieve that act with Heero. His reflexes were too swift. Before he knew it, both he and Heero were in his office and the door was shut quickly, leaving the startled looking receptionist standing outside in the hallway.

"Here," Heero held out the bag. With a glare, Duo snatched it from his hands and quickly moved back to his desk. He sat down in the chair he'd just vacated, put the bag on his desktop, then leaned back with his arms folding in front of his chest and did his best imitation of Heero's patented death glare. He watched with narrow eyes as Heero moved to sit on the edge of his desk and calmly watched him.

"Nice set up you have here," the Japanese teen commented, looking around the tidy office. "Sounds like both Mr. Schweibeker and Mr. Andrews are decent sort of people. Malia mentioned that the deli sends a lunch over for you every day that you come to work, on the company's account."

Duo shrugged, his face unreadable.

"She said they're very understanding of your condition," Heero said, now intently watching his friend for his reaction.

"My condition?" Duo questioned darkly, a cinnamon colored eyebrow raised.

"Well, what they believe your condition to be," Heero amended casually. "Have you been to see a doctor lately?"

"I'm fine and healthy," the braided one answered sourly.

"No, you're not!" Heero countered. "You're too thin and you look haggard. You don't eat but drink about as much liquor as a whole squadron of soldiers on a twenty-four hour leave. You look depressed and you've withdrawn from everyone who cares about you. I'd say there is something definitely not fine and healthy here."

As Duo listened to the last of Heero's list of his failings, his anger level rose. He tried to let it go, but Heero kept speaking and his anger mounted beyond the level where he could contain it.

With his teeth clenched together, he stood, his knuckles resting on the desk growing white even as his face began to turn red. "I don't need you to come here to tell me the obvious, Heero. What I do need is for you to leave me alone, leave this colony and go back to your home, to your life, to those who care about you. Just leave me the hell alone!"

He moved quickly to escape the room but found his arm firmly grabbed, impeding his hasty retreat. 

"No," Heero said, his eyes flaring with determination. "You're my friend and you're in trouble."

"My friend?" Duo exclaimed loudly. "Where the hell have you been this last half of this year, Heero?" His anger and incredulousness brought a look of guilt to Heero's face that was somewhat rewarding.

"I left messages on your e-mail, of which you only returned one saying you didn't think we could salvage our friendship," Heero replied defensively.

Duo snorted with disgust and shook his head while wresting his captured arm free of Heero's firm grip. Taking a step back, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. A screaming match with Heero was the last thing he wanted right now, especially with his head throbbing. He reached within himself and calmed, letting go of his anger and anything else that bothered him at the moment. "I just don't want to talk about this. I'm fine, so go home."

"No." Heero replied sharply.

Exasperated, Duo opened his eyes and walked back to his desk and grabbed hold of the bag holding his meal. He ripped it open and unwrapped the sandwich. He resumed his seat and began to eat it, chewing each large bite with exaggerated slowness while ignoring Heero, who had taken up his place again on the edge of the desk. Having eaten half of the sandwich, Duo reached into the bag and pulled out a container of milk and a plastic wrapped cookie. He opened the milk and drank half of the container, then proceeded to finish his sandwich. He took his time unwrapping the clinging plastic from off the cookie and then took one small bite after another, taking small sips of milk in between.

"I assume from your statement that you feel neglected," Heero's voice broke the silence between them. His tone wasn't accusing, but curious.

Duo rolled his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "That's right," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "My life is as screwed up as you describe because you were inattentive." He stood again and wadded up the paper and plastic wrap into a tight ball with his two hands then added the paper bag into the growing mass of trash before tossing it into a trash can about fifteen feet away. It landed perfectly in the center.

"Listen," he began, his eyes still averted from Heero. "I can't make you leave, but I don't have to talk to you." With that said, he walked to the door with his braid swinging behind him as he made his way out of the building. 

He didn't go home but began his walk around Cherry Hill, wandering aimlessly and checking his watch periodically. At precisely four ten, he entered a local, popular establishment called Smitty's Bar and Pool; one of his regular drinking places.

"Hey D-man," a burly, barrel-chested man called out in greeting. "The usual?" he asked, habitually stroking the stubbled growth on his wide and red face as he observed one of his frequent customers approach the bar.

"A double," Duo answered as he straddled a stool and flopped his forearms on top of the bar. A large glass of amber colored liquid was placed before him in a matter of seconds. 

"Starting a bit early and fast today, aren't you?" The man inquired with a crooked grin. 

"You need a shave, Smitty," Duo grumbled, not bothering to look up into the man's face as he took his first couple of swallows of the burning liquid he would be consuming that evening.

The older man gave the boy a wicked grin. "And you need a hair cut, brat. You cut, I'll shave," he offered.

The door behind the former pilot opened, spilling bright light into the darkened room. The bartender nodded a greeting to the new customer.

"A beer," the young man requested.

The bartender looked the youth over and raised an eyebrow. "I'll need to see some I.D.," he said.

The Japanese youth sat next to the bar's only other customer and gave the man a knowing look. "You just served my friend here a drink, and we're the same age."

Smitty was taken aback by the young man with the intense dark eyes that made him feel like cowering. A mug of cold beer was quickly placed in front of the boy he'd never seen before. "Enjoy," he murmured, then quickly removed himself and became busy further down the bar.

As time wore on, the other regulars filtered in. Saturday night was always busy and lively and tonight looked like it would be no exception. Everyone who entered seemed to be acquainted with the long haired boy, but after a brief greeting, they left him to his drink. Rumors surrounding the teenager were quickly dispelled with the truth about his being a gundam pilot during the war. People in the colony were either in awe of that fact or felt great hatred for him, depending on whose side they backed during the war. No matter how they personally felt about the boy being back on the colony, they all left the morose and obviously troubled young man alone.

Smitty kept an eye on Maxwell and the guy next to him, whom the braided one completely ignored, despite the other fellow's attempts at conversation. The older man couldn't help but wonder about the new comer's claim that he was a friend to the seemingly friendless teen. During the hours following their entrance into his establishment, he'd served the gundam pilot several drinks, the boy paying for them as he went. His 'friend' had been nursing his first beer the entire time.

The bar filled gradually with familiar customers until around nine o'clock when it became crowded enough to be nearing the maximum number of patrons the establishment could legally entertain. The talk and music that filled the moderately sized business became overwhelmingly loud. Yet through the din, Duo's ears picked up an argument in the process of heating up. He listened intently and looked up to catch the bartender's eyes as the argument neared the point of the where the men contending with each other were obviously getting close to exchanging blows with each other. He received a warning look from Smitty who saw exactly where his thoughts were going. 

Smitty had seen that glint in the boy's eyes before and knew what was coming. "Listen kid, don't you go and start anything," the older man warned his regular with a shaking finger, and Heero's bent head shot up sharply, his eyes shifting about the room.

"Alright boys," Smitty barked out to the growing sound of a ruckus behind the two underage drinkers. "Settle down or take it outside."

From the sound of it, the name calling and insulting had escalated to a bout of shouting and shoving. The moment Duo felt someone bump heavily against his back, Shinigami sprang into action with life and death blazing in his eyes. Duo suddenly jumped up on his stool with cat-like grace just as fists began flying between the five men involved in the altercation that had been going on not too far behind his bar stool. With a wild man's cry, Duo leapt from the top of his precarious perch on the bar stool and into the middle of the small brawl, his own arms and fists striking out at anyone within his reach.

Smitty's eyes turned to the Japanese boy whose face wore a look of disbelief. Sensing the older man's eyes on him, Heero turned and questioned him. "Does he do this often?" he asked, shouting to be heard above the cacophony of anger behind him.

"A least once a week," the older man shouted back with a shake of his head. "He never starts it, but he's always happy to join in." The man then leaned over the bar to be heard above the wild tumult. "It's about the only time I've seen any life come into the kid's eyes."

Opening his wallet, Heero quickly paid the man the bar tab and stood upon his barstool to get a bird's eye view of the melee. There were four or five men grappling with each other and as he peered through the dim light, he saw the chestnut color hair moving quickly but within a confined space. The head in front of the former Deathscythe pilot suddenly went down and a space in the crowd opened up. Springing off the stool, Heero correctly judged the distance and landed directly behind Duo and immediately wrapped his strong arms around his friend, effectively pinning his arms to his side.

"That's enough," Heero said sternly into Duo's ear as the braided bundle of energy struggled to break free.

"Let me go!" Duo yelled back and threw his head back, slamming his hard skull into Heero's forehead and kicking his feet out to knock his new opponent backwards. 

Any other man may have been stunned by such a blow and knocked flat on his back at the second movement Duo made, but the perfect soldier's eyes took on a look of determination as he picked up the slightly smaller person, still trapped in his arms, and simply walked away from the on-going fight and out the front door of the bar. 

Duo struggled in vain to free himself, but couldn't loosen Heero's gundanium strength grip on him, despite all his wiggling, squirming and protesting. 

"Calm down and I'll release you," Heero ordered.

After a few more futile attempts to free himself, Duo felt the energy and spark of adrenaline he managed to generate at the beginning of the fight drain from him and he let go, slumping and becoming a dead weight in Heero's arms.

Heero pulled the limp body back with him to a bench that sat against the front wall of the bar and beneath the flashing red, white and blue neon sign. He sat down awkwardly on the bench pulling Duo in front of him, not releasing his grip on his obviously disturbed friend.

The large metal door to the bar slammed open and Smitty appeared, hauling two bedraggled looking men out by the scruff of their shirts. With surprising strength, he flung the two out to the far end of the sidewalk where they stumbled to gain their footing. 

"And don't come back for a month," he told them sternly. "I'll be sending you a bill Jack for any damages your argument cost me," he added. As the two men slunk away, the bar owner's eyes turned to the two sitting oddly on the bench. 

Heero could only imagine what the man thought as he held Duo in his arms on his lap and pressed firmly against his chest. The man's eyebrows rose in question. "Just calming him down," Heero replied.

Smitty snorted. "If you can do that, you're a better man than anyone in this colony," he said, and his eyes settled on the braided terror. "You go home, kid," he said in a firm voice. "Let your friend help you."

Duo raised his chin so that he could look at the man who sold him a small fortune in drinks over the last six months and glared at him.

"And don't come back until you learn to smile." Smitty probably thought he was being funny, but it was obvious Duo didn't think him humorous.

"You want a smile?" Duo replied in an ominously, dangerous tone. A slow manic grin grew on the handsome face, and to the older man observing, it gave the boy a whole different look. As the disturbed boy's amethyst eyes narrowed, a look of cunning and ungodliness caused the older man to involuntarily shiver in reaction to it. There was pain and death in those eyes looking at him through the long strands of hair that fell over the boy's forehead.

"Stop it, Duo," Heero said sharply, feeling Duo's body tense again. "You're scaring the man."

Looking up to the shocked face of the older bartender, Heero tried to make light of the situation. "You wouldn't believe how many hours he spent in front of the mirror perfecting that look," he said calmly. The older man nodded, looking confused. "I've got everything in hand here," Heero added. "Goodnight."

It was clear to Smitty that he had been dismissed, and there was nothing else for him to do but go inside and get back to work. As he did, he silently wished the gundam pilot's friend good luck in helping the messed up kid he'd come to be rather fond of.

A few silent moments passed before Heero spoke again. "When you've calmed down enough, we'll go back to your place and talk."

It took another ten minutes before the braided young man relaxed his body enough that Heero released his hold on him. Once freed, Duo promptly stood and walked away without a look back to see if Heero followed. Heero did indeed follow behind him as Duo made his way back to his house and unlocked the front door. He then walked calmly into it, leaving it open in his wake and proceeded to the kitchen. The light of the refrigerator came on when he opened it and it was the only one to light the interior of the house as Heero entered a few moments behind him. The popping of a can being opened was the only sound to fill the dark space between the two friends.

Heero turned on the lamp that was resting on the small table by the front door, then closed the door and locked it. He turned and his eyes sought and found Duo standing in front of the open door of the refrigerator, his head thrown back as he finished the contents of a can of beer. Tossing the can into the sink, where it clattered loudly, he reached in for another one and popped the top of that one also.

Duo was surprised and unhappy to suddenly find Heero's hand on top of his, holding the can of beer firmly in place just inches from his mouth. "You want it?" he asked, then released the can into Heero's grip and reached into the refrigerator for another.

"Stop it!" Heero said harshly. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Duo finally turned and looked him squarely in the eye for the first time that day. "What do you think?" he replied with a mocking sneer.

Heero threw the full can of beer into the sink where the contents exploded and splattered over the counter and the rest of it emptied out into the sink and ran down drain. He turned and forcefully shut the refrigerator and glared at his friend while pointing to the living room. "Sit down," he ordered. "We're going to talk."

With an agility that was surprising in his inebriated state, Duo ducked quickly away from Heero's outstretched arm and headed for his bedroom. "I don't think so," he shot back over his shoulder with equal firmness.

An firm iron grip on his arm brought Duo to an abrupt halt and he was instantly propelled towards the couch and unceremoniously tossed onto it. He landed in a sprawled position but immediately sprang up into a fighting stance.

"This brings back a few memories," Heero said as he too prepared for a fight. "I remember how a good fight always seemed to help you when you were stressed. Remember the brawl we had in that one safehouse? You loved that, didn't you?"

Duo glared at him and slowly, without taking his eyes off of Heero, moved away from the couch to a more open space, away from the coffee table and lamps.

When he didn't answer, Heero continued, keeping a wary eye on his friend. "If a fight is what you need, Duo, I'll be happy to oblige, just like I did back then."

Heero watched curiously as a flash of pain registered on Duo's face before it was quickly replaced again with his earlier sneer. Then the braided teen said in a dark tone. "I could always count on you back then...to give me what I needed. Couldn't I Heero? But not any more." To his surprise, instead of flinging himself into the proposed fight, much like he had in the bar earlier, Duo suddenly relaxed, as if he'd let go of all the anger and resentment he displayed a moment before. It was as if he just didn't care any more. That attitude, of caring about nothing, that Heero had seen several times already since he arrived, alarmed him.

"Too bad things aren't that simple anymore," Duo added, in a mournful tone of voice and then turned away from Heero.

His escape from the other person in the room wasn't going to be that easy, and that fact was made clearer as Heero grabbed hold of his arm once again and whipped him around to face him. As the feel of a stinging slap on his cheek brought him back to reality, he felt the anger he'd just let go begin to resurface again. Heero then grabbed hold of his face with both hands and held it firmly and forced him to look into his worried, steely blue eyes.

"What the hell has happened to you?" Heero asked with anger, and Duo thought he detected a touch of fear in the troubled eyes before him. "Out of all of us I thought you'd adjust to civilian life better than the rest of us."

"Why would you think that?" Duo replied snidely, angry and confused by Heero's statement. "Was it because I had a sense of humor, a quick smile and an easy laugh? Did I fool you all so completely?"

"Duo," Heero began, letting go of the other teen's face. "I knew of your pain and your mask. It's how you coped. But you left Quatre's a year ago with a job, a plan and a home. What happened to you? You're empty, friendless, and an angry drunk."

"Always with the flowery compliments," Duo snorted.

"Do I lie?"

Duo shrugged, once again desperately trying to let go of the anger while the hollowness that had become a part of his daily existence began to enter his consciousness once more. "What does it matter?"

He felt the stinging of another firm slap to his face and his anger took over his sense of apathy. Balling up his fist, he took a swing at the darker haired boy grimly staring at him.

Heero dodged it in the nick of time and took a step back. "It matters to me and to the others, we're still your friends, even if you don't care anymore." Heero returned a fist towards the angry person he'd once called his best friend and hit him in the upper arm. That blow seemed to release something within the former Deathscythe pilot and Duo left caution behind and began swinging wildly, without thought or reason. Fortunately, Heero fought with both. He aimed his blows at Duo's extremities and any blows to Duo's torso were measured to inflict little damage.

After they'd been fighting for a period of fifteen minutes, Duo's legs buckled and he slowly sunk to the floor succumbing to both weariness, pain, emptiness and finally darkness.

Heero stood over his friend's collapsed body, a frown on his face. He knew he hadn't severely hurt Duo, but they would both be covered with bruises come morning. Leaning over, he picked Duo up from off the floor and carried him to his bed. Carefully and with a gentleness that would surprise most people who knew him, he removed the unconscious teen's shoes, pants and shirt and put Duo into his bed for the second night in a row. He stood back and looked down on his friend who, even in his sleep, seemed uneasy, with a frown on his face that seemed out of place. 

Rubbing his tired eyes and beginning to feel the ache from the blows Duo had managed to land, he went into the living room and sat at Duo's desk. He activated the vid screen and dialed up Quatre's private line. After the tenth buzz, the face of his sleepy looking blond friend came into view.

"Heero?" Quatre's eyes widened at the sight of his disheveled friend. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I need your help, Quatre," Heero said softly and he noticed the look of apprehension that filled the light blue eyes staring at him on the vid screen.

"How is he?" 

Heero sighed and ran a hand through his mussed hair. "Physically, he's run down and hasn't taken care of himself. He eats too little and consumes too much alcohol," he replied. "Mentally," he shook his head sadly. "He's on a self destruct course. I haven't been able to determine what's caused this, but I've been through his things and haven't found any medication or any sign that he's seen a doctor since he's been here."

Quatre looked upset and on the verge of giving into his emotions. "Oh, Duo," he said softly to himself, then looked up with a firm resolve. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I need you to contact your sister, Irea. See if she can recommend a safe place near here where we can put Duo for a psychiatric review. If not on this colony, then one on or near yours."

"I'll get right on it and call you back. You're at Duo's place?"

"Yes," Heero nodded.

"Okay, I'm on it." 

The vid screen went blank and Heero stood and stretched out his sore muscles. Grabbing a pillow and blanket from where he found it the night before, he made himself comfortable on the couch once again and stretched out on it to grab some sleep. He knew he would need to be rested for whatever happened when Duo woke up in the morning.

  
  


The sound of the vid screen buzzing woke him and he rushed to answer it, hoping the sound wouldn't wake Duo up from his much needed sleep.

Quatre's face appeared. "Hello Heero," he greeted him looking tired and a bit worn.

"Morning," Heero answered in a rough voice as he raked a hand through his messy hair, hoping it wasn't standing straight up. "Did you find something?"

"Yes," Quatre answered, looking as serious as the situation warranted. "Irea knows of a very competent doctor who has a very respectable clinic there on L-2. I've arranged for Duo to be admitted for at least two weeks of evaluation and therapy, then he can be seen as an out patient, returning to his job, if all goes well. Of course, I'll be taking care of any and all medical expenses."

Opening the desk drawer, Heero reached for a note pad and pen. He wrote down the name of the doctor and the address as Quatre relayed the information.

"He's expecting you around one o'clock this afternoon." Quatre paused and the look of worry returned to his face. "Is he going to go willingly, Heero? We both know how stubborn he can be when he digs his heels in."

Heero took in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "I don't know," he replied. "He's not going to be looking or feeling very well when he wakes up and he's been extremely antagonistic since I made my presence known. He's so filled with anger, Quatre." 

"Is he sick?" Quatre asked, his face a picture of concern.

"We had a fight last night," Heero said quietly, not proud of admitting his actions.

"Heero!" Quatre's voice reprimanded him.

"You remember how a fight always calmed him during the war?" Heero asked the blond.

After a moment of reflective thought, Quatre answered. "Yes, I remember," he replied, some of his frown lessening. "He always felt too damn chipper after picking a fight with one of us."

"Or all of us," Heero reminded him.

"I remember that brawl all too well." A sad smile came to Quatre's lips as he reflected back to that time. "By Allah, we were all so mad at him, but it did break the tension, didn't it? Maybe your fighting will have served a purpose and he'll be more open with you when he wakes up."

Heero nodded, still looking grim. "He's so angry and won't talk to me other than to tell me to go away," he reported. "He's sullen and aloof, completely different from the Duo we knew, except when he had trouble with medications after the first war was over." 

Quatre seemed to slump back into his chair. "I just knew something was wrong when he stopped calling and writing. He allowed me to think that he was taking his medication and that he was just busy with work and making friends and I bought it. I wish I'd acted sooner."

"I believe we all wish that, but how were we to know?" Heero's own feelings of guilt were displayed on his face and in his voice.

"We were a family during the war," Quatre spoke with a bit of sorrow reflected in his eyes. "Somehow we lost that feeling as we each went on with our lives. Maybe Duo needed us more than he let on. We should have been there for him."

"We can't change the past, Quatre," Heero cut into the blond's guilt trip. "But we can try to be here for him now. I'll get him admitted to the clinic and make sure he's settled in. I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but I have to return to Earth as Relena begins a new string of conferences in three days."

Quatre nodded. "I wish I could be there for him too, but there's a new development in my family that was just brought to my attention and I need to see to it personally."

"A problem?" Heero asked, frowning.

Quatre shook his head. "Not really, at least I don't think so. I was just reluctantly informed of another sister who has been missing since I was a baby. A social service agency on colony X99874 contacted my office with an inquiry and with the information I received I went to one of my older sisters. Talia told me about a scandal that surrounded our missing half-sister. I think we might have found her, but I need to go meet her and have a paternity test taken to determine if she is my father's daughter. If she is, then I need to bring her home."

"Another sister?" Heero's eyes went wide, and despite the grave situation he was currently dealing with, he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from turning up.

"I know," Quatre groaned. "Just what I need, but it could prove to be a difficult transition for her because she was abandoned by her mother and left to make it on her own. So, if she is my sister, I really need to bring here to meet the rest of the family and ease her into being a Winner."

Heero nodded, then looked up with another thought. "How about Wufei or Trowa? Could they possibly come here and stay with Duo for a while?"

"I'll contact them and see if they can make themselves available, at least to bring him home in two weeks. I'll see Wufei sometime today and I'll e-mail Trowa immediately."

"Sounds good. You'll keep on top of this and update me on what's going on?" Heero asked, still looking worried.

"I'll make a pest of myself, at least on the vid phone," Quatre promised. "When are you leaving L-2?"

"Tonight. I'll make arrangements with Duo's work place for time off and settle any debts or bills he needs to have paid before I go."

"Why don't you stop by here on your way back to Earth?" Quatre suggested with a hopeful look on his face. "We haven't seen each other for a long time and you, Wufei and I could have a late dinner together. I'd really like a full report from you on Duo's life on L-2."

Heero paused to calculate in his head if he could make it or not. "Alright," he answered. "I'll see if I can rearrange the transportation."

"I'll send a shuttle for you. I have a corporation jet on L-1 right now and that's not too far away from you. It will be there around three o'clock this afternoon and you can hop on anytime you're ready to leave."

Heero nodded, accepting the generous offer. "I'll see you tonight then."

"Give Duo my best regards," Quatre said. "And call if he wants to talk to me. Tell him I'm worried sick."

Heero nodded and the two bid each other good bye.

  
  


An hour later a painful groan came from the bedroom and Heero made his way into the room to watch his friend's painful awakening.

Duo's large, bloodshot eyes struggled to open, and they were met once again by the concerned face of Heero Yuy holding a couple of pain pills in his outstretched hand.

An hour later Duo came out of his bedroom showered and dressed. He walked stiffly, obviously not feeling well and in pain, towards the couch and carefully laid himself down on it, his arm swung up and over his face to cover his eyes.

"Duo," Heero's voice called out softly to him as he came to stand by the sofa. "You need help, more than what I can give you. I'm checking you into a clinic today so you can get that help from a competent physician."

Duo lay perfectly still for a moment before speaking. "Why?"

Heero looked down at him confused. "Why what?"

Duo sighed deeply, his breath almost shuddering. "Why did you come back into my life now? Why do you care? Why bother?"

A feeling he couldn't quite define gripped Heero's heart. Kneeling down, he took Duo's slack hand that was resting on his stomach and clasped it with his own. "Because you're my friend, Duo. I care about you, we all do. We're," he paused, thinking about what Quatre had said earlier, "family, and because I once promised you I'd be your backup."

"But you weren't here when I needed you, were you?" Duo said accusingly with his voice shaking with emotion. "You, more than the other guys, should have known."

Heero frowned. "Known what, Duo?"

Duo's lips pursed together and Heero knew an answer to that question was not going to be forthcoming. "I'm sorry, Duo. I just assumed from the information the others gave me that you were all right. You didn't seem to want contact with me, so I thought I'd give you time to settle before I was going to approach you again." He reached out and gripped his friend's shoulder. "What is it that I should have known? Why couldn't you tell us what was wrong? Tell Quatre, or me?"

The young man on the couch turned his head away as he struggled to compose himself. "Because...I didn't want you to think I'm weak," he whispered.

"None of us could ever think that about you, Duo. After all we've been through together, how could we? Tell me, what's wrong?"

The braided young man turned on his side, facing away from his friend, then curled up into a fetal position.

Alarmed, Heero put his arms around the one person who had been able to give him comfort and human warmth during the war. Putting his face along side his friend's bruised cheek, he whispered. "Whatever it is, it's going to be all right. I promise," he added, hoping with all that was in him that it was true.

Minutes passed as the two remained in place, Duo held by his best friend. At last, the braided young man spoke in a shaky voice. "I'm....so empty, Heero," Duo's voice was but a choked whisper, filled with emotion. "Everyone I've ever cared for is gone. I feel hollow, with an emptiness that nothing can fill. I can only numb it with alcohol or fighting."

"We'll find a way," Heero said, fighting back his own emotions as he held his friend close to his chest. "You're not alone, Duo. We all care. We've all had our struggles after the war to find peace and we've all needed professional help. We're going to help you find the solution because you deserve to be happy and to find peace, more so than anyone I know." 

Heero continued to whisper soft reassurances to his silent but distraught friend until Duo finally relaxed into a restless state of sleep. Heero moved back in order to straighten out his friend's body to allow him to rest more comfortably on the couch and noted again how worn out and frail Duo had become. It was obvious that the braided teen had fought this internal battle by himself for far too long and that, whatever emotional problems he was dealing with, it was causing wear and tear on his mental and physical state. Reaching his hand out to brush the long strands of warm brown colored hair from off the pale face, Heero whispered to his sleeping friend. "We'll make this right, Duo. Somehow, you're going to be happy again."

  
  


Duo was awakened by Heero at noon to a lunch that was prepared for him and sitting on the counter top. At a glance, he saw his large suitcase and duffle bag sitting by the front door; Heero had been busy while he slept.

Feeling confused and slightly disoriented, his body aching from his activities the night before, Duo resigned himself to doing whatever Heero instructed. Feeling some sort of twisted pleasure in letting someone else have control of his life for a short while. He snorted a cut off laugh, reminding himself that he hadn't done a very good job of taking care of himself lately. He planted his head in his upraised hand as his fork worked automatically in putting the stir fried vegetables into his mouth, not really paying any attention to the taste, flavor, or even what he was ingesting. He hadn't enjoyed food for a while now, and he dimly wondered why that was.

Heero tried to keep up some kind of dialogue between them, but Duo was too tired, too despondent to think of any answers, it seemed to take too much energy and effort to respond. But when Heero asked if he wanted to talk to Quatre before they left the house, to reassure his friend that he was alright, Duo nodded. He said he owed it to Quatre, knowing his friend would be worried about him.

When Heero had Quatre on the vid phone, Duo moved lethargically to the desk and sat in his chair. His eyes rose to the screen, seeing worried blue eyes gazing back at him.

"Oh Duo, why didn't you tell me?" Quatre said, his emotions surfacing. Duo could only look with apathy at his blond friend with a look of confusion on his face, feeling strangely distanced from reality at seeing the sadness openly displayed on his face. He felt something inside him cave inward at the slow realization that he'd let his friends down once again.

"It's okay, Duo." Quatre was quick to say, seeing the confusion turn to a crushed look on his friend's battered face. "You're going to be alright. I've arranged for a very good and competent doctor to look after you. Just be honest with him about what you've been feeling and he'll do everything he can to help."

Duo nodded, unable to find the strength or need to apologize.

"Duo." Quatre's voice took on a tone of pleading. "You're not the only one struggling to find a place after the war. Did Heero tell you Wufei is here on L-4? He tried to be part of the peace process with the Preventers but he just couldn't do it. It felt too much like the war and that it never seemed to come to an end. It became another form of war that he learned he could never truly win. He's here now with a dojo all his own and he's much happier, but it took time and the determination to find what it was that would make him happy. If this job and L-2 isn't right for you, we'll help you find something you do like. You know I'll do anything to help."

"I like my job," Duo mumbled, not wanting his friends to think that Quatre's assumption, that he was unhappy with his job, was the source of his current state of unhappiness.

"Alright," Quatre acknowledged. "Then there's something else that's wrong. Please, trust your new doctor, Duo. I'll come see you as soon as I can, and Trowa or Wufei will come to check you out of the clinic and stay with you a few days. Will that be alright?"

He managed a nod and a sigh, knowing Quatre would wait as long as he had to for an answer. Better to answer something than to let this tiring conversation continue.

"I'll call you every night, alright?"

Another nod.

"Heero?" Quatre looked for their other friend, who promptly came in view of the vid screen as he leaned over Duo's shoulder. "Take care of him. I'll see you tonight."

Duo sat silent and uninterested as Heero and Quatre bid each other goodbye. After the vid phone was shut down, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Time to go," Heero said, moving his hand to Duo's elbow, he helped him up from his chair.

Still feeling numb and disconnected from his surroundings, Duo stood and put his arms out as Heero helped him into his worn and comfortable jean jacket. He felt Heero's arm go around his shoulder and carefully moved him towards the front door.

"Let's go Duo," he said gently. "Just remember, a new beginning takes a first step."

Picking up the suitcase and duffle bag, Heero led his strangely compliant and quiet friend out the front door and locked the house behind them. A taxi was waiting at the curb of the sidewalk, ready to take them to the clinic that they all were putting their hopes in for Duo's recovery.

End

  
  


Hey guys, we're nearly there. Only one more story left in the DFA. Be patient, I'm working on it, but it's rather long and I'm terribly busy at the moment. Thanks for your comments and encouragement by review and e-mail. All are greatly appreciated. 


End file.
